


A King for a Queen

by SilverCurious



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverCurious/pseuds/SilverCurious
Summary: Spoilers season 7. Sometimes all you need is a little wine.





	1. A Gracious Host

**Author's Note:**

> First written work and first post. Feedback is very welcome!

 

 

Daenerys shut the door behind her and leaned back against it with eyes closed. He made her feel like a young girl again, with him she became who she was before her armies, before the Dothraki, before she became the mother of dragons and started playing the grand game. He made her weak, and that made her uneasy. 

She looked up from the floorboards of the ship, suddenly more herself again. After her flight north on Drogon a small contingent of her group had left shortly after her in one of her galleys. She was glad they were there to meet her and Jon's party at the wall, but now she was more grateful still to find the halls empty. She thanked the gods for that small kindness. 

What would her guards or Jon’s men think of her coming out of his room with puffy eyes, red cheeks, and a wrinkled dress? She flattened the front of it with trembling hands to rid it of creases made from sitting for hours waiting for Jon to awaken, and began the walk to her chamber deep in thought. 

Would the ship not have followed after her departure from Dragonstone and met them at Eastwatch perhaps Jon would not be alive. The thought made her heart ache.

It had only been four days since the events beyond the wall, but the anguish in her heart had not faded. She would never see the likes of Viserion again, he was so like his namesake, her silver haired brother Viserys; dangerous, beautiful, and now.... dead. Gone from this world forever just like her sun and stars and the child she never met. Daenerys placed her hand absentmindedly on her belly as she walked. Now she had two live children and two dead. She hoped she would not outlive them all, but that fear was realer than it had ever been. 

Now Drogon and Rhaegal were all she had left.

She had not stepped foot near Jon since he was placed unconscious in his room to recover. Though she wanted to be near him for reasons even she did not fully understand, she did not want to seem too familiar and did not want the others of their party questioning her whereabouts. Tyrion had already told her Jon appeared in love with her, what would he say were she to wait by his side alone in his room like a love-struck maid? She shook her head, instead she commanded her trusted aide Missandei to send word to her if Jon stirred. 

Better to appear concerned from afar. Besides, sitting in a room alone with Jon gave her _ideas_. He was not unpleasant to look upon. She blushed. 

Truthfully while she appeared aloof, she was beside herself with worry. She cared for him; that she could no longer deny. She wanted to learn more about him, and to ask him where he got those terrible scars over his chest and to banter with him once again about which kingdoms belonged to whom.

When he reached for her hand just moments ago her heart had leapt into her throat and her mouth ran dry. He was so hot compared to the coolness of her hands and the touch felt like one between lovers. Suddenly she found it too uncomfortably warm in his room though cold sea air blew in through the open windows. His leg was firm and intimate against her knees. Though he was more naked than she, she felt herself unclothed in front of him. She could not believe he called her his queen. His voice was raspy from disuse and it had sounded so lovely coming from his lips.

She pressed her hands onto her cheeks to cool them. _You are a dragon Daenerys, not a naïve girl who has never known a man._ She had been with many lovers since Drogo, men and women alike, but this was new. She felt so unlike herself and that both frightened and excited her. 

“Your grace?” The voice startled her. Daenerys whirled around and found her faithful friend Missandei. 

She cleared her throat and tried to clear her head of intrusive thoughts, “What news?”

“The lord’s companions would like to celebrate his wakening and drink to your good health.” Missandei clasped her hands in front of her. If she noticed her flustered appearance she had the decency to hold her tongue.

“You mean they wish to drink the rest of my wine and ale.” The dragon queen rolled her eyes. “Very well, a bit of drink and music would do us all some good. Make whatever necessary arrangements. Ask Lord Snow or the maester if he is well enough to join us tonight, some activity may speed up his recovery.”

Missandei couldn’t hide the twitch of her lips. Daenerys raised an eyebrow. “The tales from the lord’s companions mentioned some activities your grace could participate in with Lord Snow.” She whispered. “It seems he spoke very highly and very often of you while north of the wall. They say he is in love.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth at the queen’s expense and she stifled a laugh with her hand.

The queen sputtered, “H-hush now. Surely that is not the case. We have hardly known each other a fortnight!” Her face reddened. “Go now before someone hears you.” 

Her handmaid and most trusted advisor danced out of the way of the queen’s playful shove. Her queen was like a sister to her, and was it not her duty then to occasionally cause her some form of mild distress? Besides it was only in private that they joked in this manner, outside of these walls and in front of strangers her grace was nothing if not the epitome of queenliness and formality. 

 

\----

 

After she was well enough away he opened his eyes and let out a shaky breath. How could he possibly rest now after that exchange? He ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. When he called her his queen he was caught in the intimacy of the moment and had almost proposed something ludicrous. He was glad he had not said something truly foolish. 

Like a woman like her would ever want a bastard by her side. He had nothing to offer her and she had everything he could ever dream of. She had an army and dragons, she was renown from Westeros to Essos and beyond, and she was the rightful queen of the seven kingdoms. It was also particularly hard to ignore her exotic features. With her silver hair and violet eyes, she was a true Targaryen queen and had a fierce, but kind heart to match her outer beauty. The realm of men could not ask for a better protector.

He knew his case was a hopeless one and he knew not how he would ever forget her after they went their separate ways. No woman would ever compare. In the chaos of the struggle beyond the wall when they were almost overwhelmed by the wights, she flew in on the back of her black and red dragon like a frozen goddess. Silver hair blowing in the wind and snow in her hair. Her lips pink and lovely, fair skin, but her eyes were fire and her face was not of this world. He was so distracted he almost caught a knife in the ribs from one of the undead. 

He closed his eyes at the memory and willed all the terrible events following her arrival away from his mind. He would never be able to pay back the debt of her lost child. A wonder of the world destroyed because of him and his stupid lack of foresight. He wished he could take it back, he wished he had never cursed her with meeting him. She didn’t deserve the slight. 

He threw his arm over his face, and exhaled. If only he could hide from the guilt he felt. Part of him was grateful for the pain in his body, at least it distracted him from his thoughts. He deserved the hurt. When he awoke to find her at his bedside his heart skipped a beat. He fooled himself into thinking that she was concerned for his wellbeing and that she was eager to see him awake, but as a queen she was only doing her sworn duty to a guest still under her protection. 

The door flew open and Jon jumped up startled. Was it her? 

He tried not to look too disappointed to see Gendry. “Your grace, I was sent to help you wash and dress.” He said.

“What for?” Jon asked, wincing as he lay back down. “And you’re going to help me do what? Is there no one else?” He stared up at the ceiling and red wooden planks stared back.

“Oh you mean like the dragon queen?” Gendry laughed at the scowl he received in response. “Sorry sir, just me. I’m afraid I’ll have to do. We’re drinking in your honor tonight.”

Jon ignored the bait and shook his head, “I’m in no state to be wandering about the ship. Leave me be.” 

“Queen Daenerys requested you be there.” The young blacksmith raised an eyebrow.

Jon stared at him wearily. “Truly? Herself or was it her advisor?”

“Well it was one of her advisors, maybe Tyrion. I don't know I'm just the messenger, but the hand speaks for the queen.” Gendry shut the door and shrugged with a grin.

“Very well. But take it easy.” The king grimaced as the young lad helped pull him up to a sitting position on the bed. “Easy Gendry, I’m not a sack of grain.” Jon grumbled as he was whisked to his feet forcefully. He supported himself against the wall and waved the blacksmith away, determined to dress himself. “I don’t need any more help Gendry, thank you. I will see you above.”

 

\---

 

Everyone was already well in their cups when she arrived. Within moments she was handed a cup full to the brim of wine, she sipped it and savored the taste. Some of the crew had procured instruments and were playing a lively tune she did not recognize.

The queen did not feel in the mood to make an entrance thus there was no announcement of her arrival. She wore a black hooded robe with silver embroidery at the neckline and sleeves and just the hint of a grey dress peeking out underneath. At her waist was a silver belt. She didn’t much care to stand out with anything more ostentatious. 

This was a small event. Including the crew, Daenery’s companions, and Jon’s men, they were only at most twenty. She wore her hair down with a small black dragon pin that served to keep her long hair away from her face. It was nice to let her guard down from time to time, ruling was almost always a tense affair. She finished the cup of wine in her hand and felt the heat of the alcohol settle in her stomach pleasantly. In a moment her cup had been refilled. One of the perks of being queen.

Her guests sat in benches around tables scattered haphazardly on the deck. She spotted Tyrion with an entire flagon of wine in his lap. He was whispering into the ear of one of her dothraki handmaidens. Poor thing, she couldn’t begin to guess what the lord hand was telling her. It must have been very interesting given the way her mouth dropped and eyes widened. Her eyes met Daenerys’ for a second and grew wider still before she suddenly sprang up and hurried away almost sending the dwarf tumbling from his seat in her haste.

“Now my queen...” Tyrion slurred. “Wherever did you find such a lovely servant girl?” He went to stand to greet her but could scarcely lift himself with the wine in his lap. “Oh.” He looked down at it. “Forgot that was there.”

“I’m sure.” The queen pursed her lips, but could not hold back her smile. “Enjoying yourself?” 

“I’d be enjoying myself more if you hadn’t scared off my conquest.” Tyrion leaned back in his chair, picked up the flagon with two hands and drank deeply.

“You positively stink of wine, my lord hand.” She crinkled her nose. “Have you been bathing in it or drinking it?”

“Perhaps a little bit of both.” He replied seriously.

Daenerys' lips twitched in amusement. “Have you seen Sir Jorah? I wish to speak with him.” He pointed in the general direction behind him and grinned at her as she sighed.

She saw her knight at a table alone with a candle almost completely extinguished. She approached and placed a hand on his shoulder. She squeezed gently in greeting. Her loyal knight. “I am sorry I had not come to speak with you sooner sir.” She stared into his dark eyes and let her hand rest on his amicably.

“You have much to think on your grace,” He squeezed her hand and let himself enjoy the queen’s attention. She was so rarely unaccompanied. “You look beautiful in black.”

She smiled, “I wanted to thank you for all that you have done to serve me, I am truly grateful. It gladdens me to have you by my side again.” Daenerys swept her hair to one side, noting Jorah’s lingering glances at her neck and lips. He still loved her, the old bear. What would he think if he knew how she felt about Jon Snow? Well she didn’t quite know herself how she felt, but it was certainly different from how she felt about Jorah. She drank deeply from her cup and tried to think of anything but the king in the north.

Suddenly she felt the music stop and voices quiet. As though she had summoned him with her thoughts, she turned and saw him leaning awkwardly against a makeshift cane.

“Well it’s about bloody time!” The one they called Tormund Giantsbane laughed heartily and others joined in. “To the king in the north!” Jon’s men hollered and slammed their cups against the tables. Jon locked eyes with her and did not avert his gaze. She gulped down a mouthful of wine and resisted the urge to look away first.

He gestured in her direction, “To Queen Daenerys. We would not be here if naught for her.” He raised a cup.

“Queen Daenerys!” Everyone stomped their feet and slammed their cups against the wooden tables. “Queen Daenerys!” They chanted.

She smiled and drank again. Her head was beginning to feel foggy. The men cheered and laughed and the music picked up once more. Daenerys approached Lord Snow and clinked their cups together playfully. “To us.” She said.

“To us.” He repeated and they took a drink together.

“How are you faring my lord?” Color had returned to his cheeks, but whether it was his body healing or the wine she did not know. He was close enough now for the breeze to blow his cloak against her robes and with it she smelled his scent. Wild and masculine and wonderful. She blushed and went to drink from her cup, but found it empty. She stared down at the bottom. “I think I need more wine.”

“Perhaps one more cup.” He grinned and signaled someone passing by.

“I’ll drink as much as I please.” She glared half in jest.

He resisted the urge to tuck a stray strand of silver hair behind the queen’s ear. “Of course your grace, and yes I am feeling better. Your maester's decoctions are effective.” He observed the color of her cheeks and wondered how much wine she had drunk. “And how are you... about what happened?” He averted his eyes, guilt settling in his stomach like a heavy iron weight.

The queen stared at him a moment before dropping her gaze down to her feet. For a time she had forgotten about the loss of one of her dragons, one of her children. She furrowed her brow. “I will survive.” She swirled the wine in her cup and put the half empty cup on a table lest she drink the rest. “I must.”

Jon stepped towards her as though to offer some measure of comfort, but stumbled awkwardly due to the unaccustomed soreness of his body. Daenerys gasped and steadied him with both hands as Jon grunted from the pain. 

“You should be in bed Lord Snow. You are not well enough to walk unassisted.” Beric Dondarrion, one of Jon’s companions motioned to clasp Jon’s arm, but the queen waved him away. 

“Come, I will escort you back to your chamber. Take the wine if you wish.” The corner of her mouth turned upwards.

“For you or for me?” Jon teased. 

“For you.” She answered.

“How gracious.” He said amused. And the two of them went down below deck arm in arm together much to the curiosity of some onlookers. 

_Let them wonder._ Daenerys held Jon’s arm firmly to support him and couldn’t help but notice the muscles under her hand. _I am just being a good host._ She felt her face redden and was grateful for the dim lanterns that illuminated the hallway. Her head swam. Perhaps she had drunk too fast.

Jon stopped moving forward and she realized they were at his door. _Already?_

She looked up at him and took the cup from his hands. She’d blame the wine for her informality later. She tipped the cup back and drank down all of its contents. It was nearly empty anyway. Jon stared at her intensely and she knew not what to say to break the silence. She wished there was more wine to drink.

“Dany. Sorry, Daenerys?” He murmured and she peeked between her eyelashes at him, suddenly feeling her heart beating erratically in her chest. His face was cast half in shadow. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered. 

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s alright Jon, I told you I was glad that I went or I would not have seen with my own eyes. Please don’t blame yourself.” She looked down at her empty cup. 

They were standing close, but he took a step closer. She stared at his lips as he moistened them with his tongue, unable to look away. Were he anyone else she would have already protested at his familiarity with her person.

He thought she would be offended at his advances, but he wasn’t going to torture himself imagining what it would feel like anymore. Even if she had cast him off the bow of her ship in anger, it would have been worth it to know what this felt like in reality. 

“No, I am sorry for this.” He murmured, pulling her to him in one motion and kissing her deeply. The cup in her hand dropped and shattered on the wooden floor. When she gasped in surprise he slipped his tongue in her mouth, taking liberties he would never have believed she would allow him. She tasted of sweet red wine and it pleased him immeasurably to feel her show no resistance. In a moment she melted against him and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer. Her response thrilled and aroused him. 

She sucked on his bottom lip and he thought only of how those lips would feel sucking on another part of him. The makeshift brace supporting his weight fell with a clank to the floor and he placed his hands on her hips for stability. Her warm womanly figure pressed flush against him and his will was not strong enough to keep his body from showing his appreciation. 

It had been years since he had been with a woman and where Ygritte was hard muscle and rough edges, Daenerys was all curves and soft skin. He released her lips and they both gasped in shaky breaths before he swept aside her hair and kissed and sucked the soft skin of her neck. He pressed his hardness against her body and groaned quietly at the feeling.

She sighed blissfully and moved one of the hands Jon had placed on her hips up and inside her robe and dress to squeeze the tender skin of her breast. He stilled for a second, but did not complain. In a moment he was at his knees in front of her with her robe pulled open at her chest and the dress beneath pulled down to her waist. She jumped in surprise, but moaned and gasped as she felt his wet mouth on her hardened nipples. 

_Who knew the cold northerner could be so brazen?_ Daenerys would have laughed if she were not so dazed. Wine and Jon Snow were a heady combination. Pleasure pooled down in her nether regions and she squeezed her thighs together for some relief. 

It had been a while since she had sought any sort of release by herself, let alone been with a man. Jon was so... overwhelming. She wished she could feel him better through all of his thick winter clothes.

They heard footsteps approaching and they froze, remembering then who and where they were. 

Daenerys pulled up her dress and fixed her robe with an agility she did not know she possessed. Jon made to stand up but she pushed him back down. He looked up at her questioningly and then towards the steps growing louder. “On one knee Jon.” She whispered and took a step back. She put on the face she used for court. Jon listened to his queen and rested on one knee.

“Your grace... and your grace?” Not a second later Sir Davos Seaworth rounded the corner and stared bewildered at them both. Jon looked up at Daenerys.

“I’ve decided to bend the knee Davos and pledge to unite my northern forces with Queen Daenerys’.” The northerner reached for the walking stick beside him on the floor. 

“In the darkness?” Davos went to help Jon stand.

The queen ran her hands down the front of her dress to straighten it somewhat nervously. “If Lord Snow was inspired to commit to my cause now or later, it makes no matter when he does it. He need not have an audience.” She turned to look at Jon who could not hide his smirk. 

She thanked the gods once again for the poor lighting; elsewise Davos would see the look on Jon’s face and her own red one. Had he no shame? She tried to appear less guilty than she felt, but Jon looked quite pleased with himself.

“Good knight, please help Lord Snow inside his chamber, it is late and I grow weary of the hour.“ The dragon queen smiled graciously in their direction then spun on her heel and began the long walk towards her room. The fragments of broken cup crunched under her feet as she picked up her pace.

 

\---

 

Her face burned in embarrassment. She was absolutely mortified. She almost ran down the hall once their voices faded, but did not want to arouse further suspicion so forced herself to take quiet, measured steps instead. The halls danced in her vision and she thought she might be sick. An eternity later she reached her room and released the sigh she was holding as the door shut behind her.

 _What was I thinking? Or was it the wine?_ Daenerys closed her eyes. Her head ached. She pressed a hand to her temple.

_I cannot be with him, he is too little for me. I am a queen and he is a bastard son of a dead man._

She removed her belt and dropped it to the floor carelessly followed by the black robe and the grey dress. In a heap she left them and crawled under the heavy blankets of her bed. She would think more on this in the morning when the room stopped spinning.

 _No he is much more than that._ _He is a King._

She fell asleep thinking of Jon Snow.

 

 


	2. A Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to start diverging from the show from here on out.

The next morning the queen awoke to a splitting headache. She groaned and covered her eyes to block the sunlight. Why had no one warned her of the effects of excessive drinking?

 _Why do the windows have no curtains?_ She squeezed her eyes shut.

Then she remembered.

The events of last night materialized in her mind and her mouth dropped. For a brief moment she considered flinging herself out the balcony window. _Who was that last night? What kind of queen would...?_ Her face reddened.

 _The shards of cup were probably still there._ Was she doomed to be in a perpetual state of embarrassment as long as Jon Snow and she shared a ship?

 _No, I’m certain I’ll feel embarrassed at these thoughts now for the rest of my life whether or not I ever see him again._ She thought wryly.

She heard a knock come at her door. "Khalessi?” A Dothraki girl bid entry.

It was the servant girl she saw with Tyrion last night, she observed. The girl’s olive skin hid her flushed cheeks well, but not well enough.

“I’ve come to draw the Khalessi a bath.” The girl looked down at her feet timidly.

She felt for her. They were sisters in shame. Though of the two the queen certainly felt she was guiltier of impropriety.

The queen nodded her acceptance. Perhaps a bath would serve to clear her head.

Afterwards the girl helped her dress and neither spoke a word, but Daenerys did not mind. She had to compose herself and mentally prepare for the rest of the journey. No more distractions. She had been so preoccupied by thoughts of Jon Snow she had not begun to strategize her visit with the Northern houses or what came after; the Great War.

It would be cold in White Harbor when they disembarked. From there her party would take a barge up the White Knife to Winterfell. She was glad the river was swift, the less time in close quarters with Lord Snow, the better for her sanity.

It would be her first official introduction to the north and she had to play the part of queen well. Her dress would be much more elaborate than the one worn last night.

She fingered the fabric of her sleeve and admired the craftsmanship. _It was exquisite._

What she would have given for such a gown when Viserys and she were running from King Robert’s assassins. They sold all their possessions and were shuffled from one location to another in bare feet. They frequently went to sleep hungry and frightened. Selling a dress like this would have kept them fed and housed for months.

It saddened her to recall how they had called her brother the beggar king. She wondered what he would think of her now.

In Pentos and the rest of the free cities the fashion was sheer and delicate fabrics while in The Dothraki Sea it was leathers for riding and woven straw out of convenience. She had lived an extraordinary life thus far and each location helped to shape who she was.

The cultures were so different, nearly completely opposite in every way. Save for one small similarity.

Her lips twitched and she held back a smile. The only thing they seemed to share was a serious antipathy for small clothes, and well that had influenced her as well. She blushed.

To be fair, the fewer layers of dress she had to wear the better and she had lived all her life in Essos. The people of Esso’s had the right of it, her clothes fit more comfortably without them.

The dress was black with small dark red scales visible only depending on the angle of the light. It had a plunging neckline and she could not recall wearing anything quite so daring in recent times.

The interior of the garment was lined with soft suede to keep out the winter chill. Overtop her dress a thick black belt in the style of a corset pushed her bosom up and emphasized her waist. With it she would wear a silver collar necklace decorated with small white gems and a three headed dragon; the symbol of her house. The servant girl clipped it from one shoulder of her dress to the other. 

Afterwards a black cloak made in the northern fashion with a white fur pelt was placed atop her shoulders. When open it framed her chest nicely. She was certain it would serve to draw even more attention to her exposed skin, much to the appreciation of Jon’s bannermen. 

_Ah, but that was indeed the point wasn’t it?_

She studied herself in the looking glass and knew her brother would not recognize her now. Gone was the thin, dirty girl afraid of her own shadow, in her place a queen and arguably the most powerful woman in the seven kingdoms.

To complete the ensemble the servant girl plaited her long hair and pinned it partially back with the main length of it thrown over one of the queen’s shoulders. Daenerys did not want the wind to blow her hair in her face, but preferred to style it down. This was a nice compromise.

She felt more herself now; confident and sure of her purpose. This was what a queen was supposed to look like and she would not be distracted by any brooding northerners with curly black hair and white direwolves. No matter how handsome.

Though she was truly looking forward to seeing Jon's familiar. He had spoken so fondly of Ghost and she had never seen a live wolf let alone a white one the size of a horse. The corner of her mouth tilted upwards. Would his direwolf like her as much as Drogon had liked him?

 _Why do all of my thoughts lead to that man_? Her eyes narrowed at her reflection.

She would not spend a second longer thinking of him, she shook her head. She had duties to attend to.

 

\----

 

Jon had fallen asleep with a grin plastered to his face and when he awoke he still could not help smiling from ear to ear. He felt like a new man. It was true, he loved her. He knew not when it happened, but he felt it. Now he could admit it.

He exhaled.

The way she had responded the evening before was more than he could have ever imagined. More than he would have ever hoped for.

Last night he dreamed of her, and what a dream it was. Though it paled in comparison to the real thing. She had looked a vision standing above him. Eyes glazed over in pleasure as she held his head to the delicate skin of her breast.

The memory made him hard all over again. He breathed in shakily and closed his eyes.

His hand squeezed his manhood through his small clothes and he thought more of her. How far would they have gotten had they not been interrupted?

Jon slipped his hand inside and stroked himself and groaned imagining the queen’s soft hands instead of his rough calloused ones. She had smelled so good and the light from the lanterns had illuminated the curves of her breasts perfectly.

He had never acquired a taste for wine, but from her mouth the flavor was exquisite. He would be glad to experience it again and was sure he’d never see wine in the same light.

His face flushed and sweat beaded on his forehead as he thrust himself into his hand. He thought of her lips; swollen, pink, and wet. Wet like another part of her, he imagined.

That thought proved too much for him and his hips jerked as he climaxed into his hands, body trembling in the aftermath. He breathed heavily.

 _What has she done to me?_ He was partly ashamed. He had rarely felt the desire to do... that, and had thought the men of the night’s watch who made frequent visits to the brothels in Mole’s Town were weak and inept. Even with Ygritte it had not been like this.

Now it was all he could think of.

He rose from the bed and rinsed his hands in the wash basin. He needed a cold bath to wash the sweat off of his body. He stretched his arms above his head. His muscles were still sore, but the pain was more tolerable today. The maester’s decoctions were effective.

He walked to the door and opened it to find Beric Dondarrion leaning against the far wall. He was grateful to see a familiar face.

“Where are we?” He asked him.

“We’re approaching White Harbor, should arrive before midday.” Beric answered. “Should I send a servant girl to help ready you?”

Jon nodded gratefully. “It will be good to stand on solid ground once again. I’m no seafarer.”

The older man nodded his head in Jon’s direction and went to fetch a servant.

 

\----

 

She entered the meeting room and found Tyrion reading a letter and Missandei flattening a piece of parchment on the table. Upon seeing their queen they rose and bowed in her direction.

"What a lovely dress my queen.” Tyrion’s eyes twinkled. "I'm certain you will prove quite the welcome sight for the dull northmen."

She raised an eyebrow. "It was after all your idea my lord hand." _And it was a clever one._ "Are you praising your own ideas now?” Her mouth twitched as Tyrion sputtered.

“No of course not.” He coughed into a fisted hand.

Daenerys fingered a strand of silver hair. “I'm afraid my chest will spill overtop the neckline with any wrong movement. How do you believe the northerners would react to that do you think?" She said amused.

"They would not complain my queen." He grinned and the queen laughed.

The hand of the queen took a seat. "Ah also, I heard about your exchange with Lord Snow last night." He stared up at her and her smile froze on her face.

She crossed her arms, suddenly defensive. _How could he possibly?_

Tyrion steepled his fingers. "With our new Northern allies we are sure to defeat my sister in a resounding victory. I was glad to hear the King in the North finally came to his senses."

 _Oh._ She dropped her arms to her sides and almost sighed in relief, but knew that might make Tyrion curious. _Yes. Right._

Davos surely must have shared what had occurred with the others.

Missandei cleared her throat. "Your grace, as you commanded yesterday a raven was dispatched to both the Unsullied at Casterly Rock and the Dothraki in the field to take their armies and march north to Winterfell. We have received their replies and estimate they will arrive within the fortnight." Her face broke out into a shy smile. “Greyworm wrote the missive himself my queen which means he is alive.”

“Greyworm can write?” Tyrion was surprised.

Missandei blushed. “Yes I gave him lessons on occasion.”

 _More than lessons._ The queen tried not to smirk.

“How long until our arrival at White Harbor? I presume Lord Manderly and company will be there to greet us.” Daenerys raised an eyebrow.

“To be sure. Your destruction of a contingent of the Lannister army in the south has certainly reached the ears of the northern houses. They would not risk offending your grace after such a tale.” Tyrion said.

“I believe the captain said we’d make port in the next hours. All arrangements have been made for our safe travel aboard a barge provided by House Manderly, so there is but one thing left for you to do my queen before we reach Winterfell.”

Daenerys tilted her head inquisitively. 

“You must find Lord Snow and convince him to send Sir Davos south to King’s Landing with the wight that was captured beyond the wall. The risk is too great for either you or Jon Snow to go in person. Cersei is no fool, dead men or no she will raze all of King’s Landing to destroy another claimant to the iron throne. She’d never waste that opportunity.” Tyrion did not meet her eyes.

“This is not what was discussed. I agreed to postpone our journey south so that Lord Snow could recover and I could meet his northern bannermen.” The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Do you presume to command me otherwise?”

Her lord hand shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Your grace I would never intend such a thing, but I beg you consider my reasoning. I know my sister better than anyone and she will not care. If you go and die in King’s Landing or worse; become her prisoner, you and I both know the Dothraki and Unsullied would give their lives to avenge you. Your dragons would burn the city to the ground. Would you truly risk their lives so needlessly?” He stood.

The queen clenched her fists, but Tyrion continued.

“And what of Jon Snow? If he died who would unite the other houses to defeat the enemies north of the wall? Death comes for us all and you and he are crucial to our survival. You know this.” Tyrion slammed the palm of his hand on the table.

Missendei walked over and took one her queen’s hands in hers. “Please your grace. We have put much thought into this.” She begged.

The queen slipped her hand out of her friend’s and turned to look out the window into the foggy morning.

“Lord Snow will never agree to send another to do his duty.” She looked over her shoulder, mouth set in a thin line. “How would I convince him to send his confidant and advisor to what will surely be his death?”

Tyrion shook his head. “I do not know your grace.”

“Does it have to be him, the knight?” Her eyes were icy.

“No one knows the streets of Kings Landing better. He has the best chance of returning alive.” A minute passed in silence.

Daenerys stared at the floor. “I do not feel good about doing this. Sir Davos is a good man, I have seen it. If what you say about Cersei is true then we might as well hang the knight from the bow of the ship now.”

“It is a complicated situation my queen.” Missandei sighed.

Tyrion looked from Missandei to Daenerys. “Do you accept then? To stay in the north?”

The queen exhaled.

“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest once again and stared out into the ocean.

 

\----

 

Daenerys stood on the deck of the ship with her hands on the railing. The meeting room was stuffy and tense, she could not stay in it a second longer. She needed to breathe.

She looked out over the narrow sea and saw only water in every direction. The cold air burned her lungs, but it felt good. 

_To rule was to make difficult choices._ Her eyebrow furrowed. _What were the Stark words again?_ She shivered and pulled her cloak closed at the front. 

“My queen.”

Her back straightened and her heart picked up at the voice. “My lord.”

She looked over her shoulder at the rugged northerner and gasped at his closeness. He was but a step behind her. She took a step back in reply, but felt the railing firm against her back. 

His eyes stared at her hotly. There was no questioning what his intentions were.

Her cheeks betrayed her as they were wont to do.

She looked up and down the deck of the ship and found herself alone with the King in the North. It both relieved and frightened her. When he was around he made her feel strange and uneasy, like she was a stranger to even herself.

She never knew what to expect with this man, and that was something she was unaccustomed to.

In a heartbeat he closed what little distance remained between them and she could not back away further. “M-my lord you are too familiar.” She stuttered and pushed a hand against his chest to push him away, but he was solid stone and she as weak as a newborn foal. He did not move.

_No, this is not the time. Are you so weak Daenerys?_

He kissed her then and she willed herself not to respond though it broke her heart. She did not move her lips, but she also did not pull back. That she could not do.

Doubt appeared in his eyes then as he pulled away.

He whispered, “Daenerys.” and looked down between them not meeting her eyes.

“I had hoped...” He hesitated.

“You were wrong.” She was firm and her eyes icy, but her cheeks bright red. Let him think it was the cold wind burning her face. _No distractions Daenerys._

He could not hide the hurt on his face and stepped back as though struck, feeling humiliated. “Last night...” He began.

“Was a mistake.” She could not bear to look at him and the words nearly choked her. She stared away far over his shoulder. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with her feelings for Jon today, there was too much to think about already.

His eyes narrowed, cold. “Then I apologize. I misinterpreted your hands drawing mine to your breasts last evening as an invitation, your grace.”

He spat out. “I suppose you got what you wanted, I bent the knee and now you have no use for me.” He turned and started walking away with clenched fists.

Her eyes widened. _Was it true then? Did he love her?_ She bit her lip. _Or was he simply angry to have been led on?_

“Wait, please my lord!” She ran to grab his arm, but he tore it from her grasp brusquely. “Jon!” She gasped.

“Forgive my rudeness; I wanted to spare you the sight of the northern bastard.” He ground his teeth.

“You have not been dismissed.” She narrowed her eyes and hissed. “Why are you behaving this way? I made you no promises. You are neither my consort nor my King. Do you believe a kiss entitles you to do with me as you please?”

He ignored her questions. “What am I then?” He raised his voice and got close to her face. He was so much taller than she.

“You are an honorable man. I trust your counsel and I respect you. Is that not enough?” She was not intimidated though her heart ached as she held her feelings from him.

He laughed bitterly. “Are you really so blind?” He stared down at her.

The queen’s heart beat erratically in her chest at the implication.

“Please Jon. Listen to me.” She took one of his hands in both of hers and tightened her grip when she saw his intention to pull away.

“I do... feel something towards you.”

He froze.

“But look around us.” She gestured with her hand. “This world is falling apart. To love is to show weakness.” The queen looked into Jon’s eyes, willing him to understand.

_If only things were different._

“I could ask you the same, are you so blind Jon Snow? Do you think I abandoned the safety of Dragonstone and risked everything to go rescue you because I only respect you? My birthright, my children, my entire reason for being?”

Jon’s lips parted as though to answer, but she continued. 

“Maybe in another life or after the war is won if we are both still alive we can pursue this.” She said solemnly. “But not now, there is too much at stake. I also have a duty to my people, and they must come before anything I may want.”

He pulled her to his chest tightly and she did not resist. She sighed into him and let her guard drop just once. She was so weary of ruling, and she felt so tired and lonely.

“My queen you are not a weakness to me, you are a strength.” He whispered in her ear. “To be with you would give my life purpose. I don’t want to survive this winter if you do not survive with me.”

“Let me show you how it could be.” He pleaded. “I have no great armies to offer you, no lengthy titles or gold. But I have myself, my sword, and my honor.”

“What better reason do we need to want to win this war? To lose is to lose everything.” He looked down at her and she up at him eyes wide.

“You don’t need to marry me. I don’t want to be king or rule the seven kingdoms.” He said seriously.

“Let me be the shield that guards your back.” The northerner ran a hand through his dark curly hair and broke eye contact with her, suddenly nervous.

She kissed him.

Her hands cupped the sides of his stubbled face and pulled his lips closer. She thrust her tongue into his parted lips and felt his hands clench her hips and arse in response.

She opened the front of his cloak and pressed her front to his, enveloping them both inside. The dragon queen pulled her face back and opened her eyes to look at him and saw that his were still closed, but was pleased to see his face was as flushed as hers was. 

His eyes fluttered open and he looked at her with such desire it sent a spark straight between her legs. Her breath caught in her throat and her legs felt weak. Why shouldn’t she let herself enjoy the northern lord’s attention?

They were not like to survive the winter, and she knew it would be very... _enjoyable._ Her hand drifted down to his chest and her eyes followed it. 

She had not been with a man since Daario in the ancient city of Meereen, but she felt that this would be wholly different. Daario had never loved her, he only wanted her and she him. They had never pretended to feel more than lust for each other.

With this handsome northerner Daenerys knew she felt many things; surely desire, but other feelings besides. She hoped she would not regret thinking with her heart.

“I have heard the winters in the north are cold indeed and I cannot bear to sleep in the cold.” She whispered. Her eyes twinkled and she felt her heart skip in her chest at the beaming smile Jon gave her in response.

“Yes the north is beyond freezing come true winter my queen.” Jon said breathlessly, hoping. He often felt like a fool in front of this dragon queen. Never knowing what to say or how to act, he had never begged for anything in his life, but he was not ashamed at doing it now. 

He stepped back slightly to look upon her face and smoldering violet eyes. He could feel the heat of them as she undressed him with her gaze; he tried not to feel too smug at her look of approval.

Jon studied her as she studied him and followed the pale column of her throat down to the revealing neckline of her dress, exposed now that the front of her cloak had drifted open.

He had not noticed until now how much skin she had left bare, his eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. The globes of her breasts made his mouth water and he could not help his hand tightening on her waist. He rubbed a thumb over a barely covered nipple and felt it harden as she shivered.

He felt blood rush below his waist at the sight and felt his head spin.

“I accept your proposal Jon Snow.” She said shakily, finding it hard to breathe. _Yes it would be very enjoyable._ She thought.

He smiled and rose his hand to barely brush his fingertips over the exposed swell of her breasts. His hands were warm and the queen stared at him through half lidded eyes, taken in by him.

“I suppose my eyes aren’t the only ones this dress was made for.” He exhaled and locked eyes with hers again. She saw his longing there and she knew then that the rumors were true. He did love her, and that pleased her immensely.

She shook her head. “No, others will look it is true, but only you may see what lies beneath it.” Daenerys ran her hand through the black fur of his cloak.

“But Jon, I hope you will understand.” She clasped his hands in hers and bid the fog lift from her mind. “No one can know about this.” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“You must remain only a trusted ally. I cannot appear to show favoritism among my...advisors.” She sighed and looked down at their hands to rub her thumbs over his knuckles. His hands were so strong and large.

Jon took one of his hands from hers and ran it through his hair as he was like to do. “Are you ashamed of me?” He asked sullenly. “Don’t want to be associated with the Northern bastard?”

She sighed and resisted the urge to shake him. Were all northerners so thick headed? “No I am not. I... care for you deeply.” The queen kissed his frown away. “I need your bannermen to respect me, I can’t appear distracted... You are a serious distraction my lord. Take it as a compliment.”

He regarded her and nodded.

“I must go speak with the captain about our arrival at White Harbor. Before I go, there is something else I have thought of that you will know but my other admirers will not.” She smiled mischievously then leaned up and kissed his neck chastely much to his surprise and appreciation.

“And what might that be?” Jon asked unable to think clearly.

“I’m not wearing anything under this dress my lord.” She whispered and before he could process her words she pulled away and danced out of his embrace laughing. In a moment she had walked to the stairs and disappeared below deck, leaving Jon stunned and more aroused than he had been in a long time.

 

 


	3. The Lord of the Mander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hurricane Irma knocked out my power and internet for awhile last week, delaying the posting of this chapter. I had planned to have this out last Monday. To make up for it I wrote twice as much, expect the next chapter as usual within a week. Comments and kudos are loved!

 

 

When the ship reached port it had begun to snow again. Daenerys looked up at the sky as soft white flakes fell gently down to blanket the harbor. Above she could just make out the dark shapes of her dragons flying overhead. 

She was glad they were close, queen though she was, she felt comforted in knowing they were there. They served to lend her strength, but her heart ached knowing they were now two instead of three.

Down below she heard a trumpet fanfare, no doubt announcing the arrival of Lord Manderly and his men. Tyrion had briefed her on this lord. He had told her many referred to him as Lord Too-Fat-to-Sit-a-Horse when his back was turned. The moniker seemed rude, but her hand was not a man to mince words. 

The Lord of White Harbor sounded like quite a character from Tyrion’s description, and Daenerys decided she was looking forward to meeting him. 

The city was large and different from any she had ever been. The buildings were a brilliant ivory that stood out starkly against their dark roofs. She imagined they would sparkle in the bright sunlight of summer. Perhaps one day she would get to see the city when it was warm.

Even in the winter the harbor bustled with activity. Fishmongers sold their wares, men unloaded cargo from ships of all sizes, and children played in the snow that had piled up against the walls of the buildings. Looking out at the other ships she recognized sails and styles from across the narrow sea and saw all manner of brightly colored ornaments and sigils. The smell of the docks reminded her of her walks through the port city of Qarth.

 _The greatest city there ever was or will be._ She thought sardonically. It felt like a distant memory of a life that occurred millennia ago.

Daenerys placed a windblown strand of hair behind her ear and shut the front of her cloak from the inside to keep out the cold. It almost felt chillier on land than out at sea. 

Though perhaps she had not truly noticed the cold due to the presence of a certain handsome lord. She glanced at him subtly through her eyelashes. It certainly had been feeling warmer than usual aboard that ship. Daenerys fingered her neckless, what would happen now? Would he just appear at her bedchamber at night ready for...? 

She blushed.

Or would she slink around in the middle of the night and slip into his bed herself? She could not believe her actions sometimes around that man. Telling him she wasn’t wearing small clothes, oh what he must think of her. She almost wanted to whisper reassurances in his ear, _I’m not a loose woman, I promise. I only want to throw myself at you, no one else._

The queen raised the white pelt of her cloak to her chin in an attempt to hide her bright pink cheeks. She cringed.

 _It had not nearly been so strange with Daario._ She worried her lip and bid her thoughts go in another direction lest she embarrass herself or Jon in front of his bannermen. But she never felt for Daario what she felt for Jon Snow. 

From the beginning she had felt an overwhelming need for the King in the North to like her and had hoped to earn his respect. Now that she had it, she admittedly did not want to disappoint him. And unlike Daario her King in the North was no mere distraction she could send away as easily as a raven with a missive. No, this was distinctly different. 

Truly she knew that whatever strange arrangement they had, it would never be strictly physical. Her feelings were too complicated for that, and his were as well. Regardless the idea of them being together made her gleeful and she had not felt genuine happiness since before the death of her sun and stars many years ago. That memory too felt hazy, like it had happened to another woman she had only read about.

For now she would not overthink their situation, it was best they take each day as it came. Who knew if either or both of them would survive long anyhow. After seeing the night king and his army of the dead with her own eyes she realized that the army of the living was woefully underprepared.

She tried not to dwell on that thought as it made her feel unwell. 

Jon Snow led the party down the galley’s drawbridge and she walked a couple paces behind him. At the rear followed her advisors then Jon's companions from beyond the wall and finally the last of her retinue which included the guards and servants. 

She admired Lord Snow’s calm demeanor. How could he appear so collected when inside she was so nervous?

Since their encounter on the deck of the ship he had changed into a fine quilted doublet with a leather jerkin over top. He wore the same dark cloak with a black pelt at his shoulders as he had earlier, but now he carried his sword at his hip. His gloved hand rested on the pommel as his boots crunched the snow beneath his feet.

He looked like he belonged here amongst the snowfall, a true King in the North. Long ago the Starks were called the Kings of Winter, and Daenerys thought Jon Snow very much looked the part. He even wore the somber northern look well. 

_He was so handsome._ She exhaled. 

"See anything you like?" Missandei tugged at the back of her cloak to whisper in her ear. She could hear the smirk in her friend’s voice. "It looks as though you might eat Lord Snow alive before we meet the Manderlys your grace." 

Daenerys looked over her shoulder and glared, but could not hide her blush. "He’s directly in my line of sight. I have nowhere else to look." She hissed back. 

Missandei laughed into her hand and cleared her throat before stepped back to walk next to Tyrion. Her lord hand raised an eyebrow at her, but she faced forward ignoring them both. 

At their sides and ahead of them a growing crowd had gathered though they were kept at a distance by Lord Manderly's men at arms. She noted the sigil on their shields; a merman holding a trident on a field of murky blue and green.

Ahead of them was the Lord of White Harbor. He was a great hulking mass of a man, and she was impressed at the strength of the brown destrier supporting him. Apparently he was indeed _not_ too-fat-to-sit-a-horse, though the creature might disagree.

 _Poor thing._ She thought.

When the throng of townsfolk caught sight of Jon they roared in excitement, all cheering and yelling at once. 

"Save us King Jon!" 

"The North! The North!" 

"Bring us peace! Destroy all those yellow haired shits once and for all!" One man yelled amidst the clamor. Daenerys resisted the urge to look back at her Lannister friend. No doubt they were referring to his family. 

“Winter is coming!” 

_Winter was already here._ She thought in response.

“The imp, look there at the half man!” Daenerys could almost feel Tyrion rolling his eyes behind her. Wherever they went men always laughed at her lord hand. There was no more clever a man in this world than Tyrion Lannister. She wished they would see him as she did.

"The King in the North himself!" Lord Wyman Manderly’s voice boomed. The man clutched his large stomach as he laughed heartily. Two guards on either side of him helped him dismount his horse much to the animal’s relief. 

The man clasped Jon’s hand and shook it with gusto then bent down to one knee to pay homage. “It is an honor to welcome you to my city your grace.” 

The crowd cheered in agreement with their lord.

"Lord Manderly, thank you for receiving us." Jon Snow said courteously somewhat taken aback by the reception. The Lord of White Harbor had always been a faithful friend to Winterfell and the Starks. 

Daenerys stepped up beside him. "My lord," she curtsied politely. The North was no place for a grand introduction of titles. They were a simpler people here, more straight to the point. 

"This is Daenerys Targaryen, the last living dragon in the seven kingdoms. She will be my honored guest at Winterfell." Jon Snow introduced her as any lord would any guest, no hint that anything had ever occurred between them. The queen was glad for that. 

Lord Manderly's eyebrows rose nearly disappearing into his hairline. "My my, but the rumors did not do your beauty justice Lady Daenerys." He rose to his feet with a grunt.

The queen bit her tongue and held back her instinct to correct him on her title. She was in unfamiliar territory here and she had promised her advisors she would control her temper. After all, she was looking for allies, not more enemies. Those she had enough to spare.

"You are too gracious my lord." She looked up at him and gave him a brilliant smile. The lord took her hand to his mouth and gave the back of it a sloppy kiss. 

_Lovely._

Above them Drogon flew closer and the clouds no longer obstructed him from view. The crowd went dead silent. Lord Manderly looked around in confusion, not quite understanding why the cheering and shouting had stopped.

"A great beast!" One of the guards screamed and pointed upwards in shock. Others yelled, but most only stared with mouths agape.

"They are my dragons." Daenerys clasped her hands in front of her. "I command them and they will do you and yours no harm I assure you. They’ll keep their distance lest I give the order."

The lord’s vassals whispered to themselves, many shifting their weight from one leg to the other nervously. They surely knew not what to make of this.

"Lest you give the order?" Lord Manderly's eyes widened. He gaped at the sight of Drogon who even at a distance was massive. He flew above the clouds once more with his brother following in chase and both disappeared from view.

The large man roared with laughter. "Well then, let's keep you nice and happy!" His guards and vassals joined in on their lord’s merriment, but with much more hesitation. 

The dragon queen released the breath she was holding. This man was nothing like what she had been told to expect from most northerners. There was nothing dull or austere about him. Her eyes crinkled in amusement at his bellowing laugh.

"Come let us feast and welcome you officially to White Harbor. We have not had as exciting an event happen in nearly a decade!” The lord clapped his hands and his men at arms made a path for them through the crowd like a hot knife through butter.

Jon appeared surprised and took a sideways look at the dragon queen. "My Lord Manderly, we are grateful for your hospitality, but it is still a long and cold journey to Winterfell. There is much to prepare there in defense of the castle and its people."

The lord shook his head. "Nonsense! Please eat of my bread and salt and eat and drink the cold away, the journey to Winterfell will take but a day on the White Knife. Our river is swift."

Jon made to speak, but Daenerys spoke first. "Very well my lord. Thank you for the offer." She took him by the arm, violet eyes twinkling.

"Lead the way."

The lord did not waste a moment to whisk her forward, leaving Jon and their party in their dust. For a man his size he could certainly move. She looked back and nearly laughed at Lord Snow's expression. Confounded and ready to protest. 

One night couldn’t hurt and truth be told she would appreciate some hot supper and a comfortable bed before their journey up river. It would also give her time to think about her predicament with Jon Snow and strategize with her advisors about meeting the other lords awaiting them at Winterfell.

Lord Manderly wasted no time. "Are you looking for a husband Lady Daenerys? I have but one son left, I thought him queer for a time, but one look at you and he might realize he likes women after all." The lord threw his head back and laughed. 

Her eyes widened and she fingered the necklace at her throat.

Jon frowned behind them.

"I am indeed unmarried my lord." She played along, not wanting to offend their host. It was hard not to let her guard down with this man, he was so genuinely friendly and charming. Nothing like the politicians she had encountered across the narrow sea. If his intention was to disarm her, he was succeeding.

The lord froze misstep almost comically and looked down at her from his great height. "My lady, I cannot believe it to be true." He looked back at Jon who had been following sullenly a few steps behind.

He bent down to whisper into her ear and she nearly choked. "May I interest you in our King in the North? He's rather brooding, but my daughters say he’s easy on the eyes. I've heard he can take a beating too, aye. Hard to kill that one they say and good with his sword." 

"I-I do not find this conversation appropriate." She stammered, face red. 

The great lord sighed dramatically. "Very well." 

They continued through the cobbled streets in silence for a time. In the distance she spotted the castle atop a hill. “The northern seat is Winterfell, but mine is New Castle. Nevermind the name, my ancestors were never a creative lot.” The man grinned.

"Now about finding you a husband, perhaps we should hold a tourney yes? You'd be quite a prize." He suggested, thumb and forefinger on his chins as he aired his thoughts. 

She shook her head, "I am not an object to be won my lord."

"Ah but a prize you would be my dear."

"I've not come here to be distracted by a man, I've come to unite the seven kingdoms once more and take my rightful place on the iron throne.” She raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Alone.”

"And to those that oppose you, will you bring fire and blood as your ancestors did?" He regarded her carefully.

"To my enemies yes." She stared straight ahead. "But the north is not my enemy. We are allies and with the dead coming for us who is to say there will be any kingdoms left to rule or any living in Westeros. I will prove to the people of Westeros I am the rightful queen by doing all I can to save them from the long night ahead." 

"Allies we are, aye." He nodded. "Disturbing reports from the wall it is true, but you will have to understand that I have reason to doubt such tales.”

“We’ve brought proof my lord, perhaps before the feast you may allow us to show it to you.”

“More on that later yes. Tell me more about your prospects for marriage.” He gave her arm a playful squeeze, back to the jovial manner of speaking he had started their conversation with. “Do consider his grace for a marriage proposal. The lad reminds me of his father." He smiled widely.

"Honorable to a fault. A seasoned commander. Fancy sword at his hip, aye I know a Valyrian steel sword when I see one my lady. That one has a different pommel than the last time I saw it held by a Mormont from Bear Island, but it is one and the same. Perhaps the king will regale us with the tale of how he came to own it." 

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. _The ancestral sword of the Mormont’s? Should it not belong to my bear knight then?_ "Very well, I suppose we can discuss our imminent doom later.” She said sarcastically failing to hide the hint of amusement at the corner of her mouth.

“Tell me what else you know about the King in the North my lord.”

“It would be my pleasure my lady.” Lord Manderly stroked his beard as he spoke. “Eddard Stark, may he rest in peace, brought him to Winterfell as a babe in arms after King Robert’s rebellion. He raised him as his own, some say out of guilt for betraying his lady wife and fathering the bastard boy, but I disbelieve that tale. There was no more honorable man than Ned Stark you see, and he was in love with Catelyn Tully. Aye you should have seen them at the wedding.” He grinned.

“He has the northern spirit that his father no doubt instilled in him, but to tell it true my lady I know no more about his parentage.”

“Curious and what else might you know my good lord?” Daenerys realized that there was much she need learn about her handsome northerner. 

“Interested now are ye? I know not much else save that after King Robert made Ned Stark hand, his grace volunteered to join the Night’s Watch. There he became Lord Commander and let the wildlings south of the wall. A decision I completely disagree with for one.” The man grumbled. 

“Not long after that he abandoned his post as Lord Commander and led the wildlings to retake Winterfell from Bolton’s bastard. He won that battle and took back the castle for the Starks. This is all I know.”

“He volunteered to join the Night’s Watch and then abandoned it?” This did not seem like the honorable man she had come to know. She stared off into the distance as New Castle grew larger and the wind picked up. 

“Aye, you see the Night’s Watch serves for life. Only death can free you from those vows. I can only wonder at the king’s reasons for forsaking his solemn oath.” 

Daenerys’ eyes widened as she recalled the terrible weeping scars she saw scattered across Jon’s chest.

 _And those words from Sir Davos when he so staunchly defended Lord Snow on Dragonstone, what were they? That he even took a knife in the heart for his people. Could it be true?_ She turned her head to look back at Jon and found him staring back at her rather intensely. 

He really shouldn’t be looking at her in that way in public. She tore her eyes away and tried to calm her racing heart. 

Lord Manderly did not miss this exchange. He leaned over to whisper in her ear with all of the subtly and noiselessness of a herd of elephants. "I do believe the lad fancies you my lady, though who can blame him? No promises as to his skills in the bedroom however, I’ve no tales of that.” The man guffawed loudly and clenched his sides at her horrified expression.

“He does look a bit wet between the ears, he might need be guided. Poor lad. He's like to embarrass himself the first..." 

"Lord Manderly!" Jon interrupted placing a firm hand on the man's shoulder. Daenerys released the death grip she had on her necklace, speechless. 

“Yes your grace?” The lord looked at the King in the North innocently. 

Jon lost his nerve. “My apologies, I have but a question.” He tried to think quickly, but he was no Tyrion Lannister.

“Do you have any dornish red at your castle? I have a thirst.” He finished lamely. 

Lord Manderly stared at Jon incredulously. “Do you think me a savage your grace? I’ll have a cask sent to your chambers at once.”

Daenerys only clutched the man’s arm and prayed for silence the last few yards to the gates. 

Finally they arrived at the portcullis of the keep. Lord Manderly excused himself to make preparations for the feast and Daenerys and Jon shared a glance for a moment, relieved.

The castle’s castellan greeted them and led them inside a courtyard with what appeared to be the entirety of the castle’s occupants standing awaiting their arrival. Their applause and cheers were thunderous as they laid eyes upon Jon Snow. He looked on stunned.

“The King in the North!” They yelled and cheered and talked at once. The castellan bowed and introduced Jon to Manderly’s tall, beautiful daughters. Daenerys stayed back with the rest of their company to watch. 

Jon stepped forward and kissed the back of each of the women’s hands, he had not forgotten his manners. An aging Maester clasped Jon’s hand and bowed deeply. 

At once the assembly quieted and one of the lord’s daughters spoke. “Your grace, it is an honor for my family to host the King in the North and his party. We hope you will be pleased with all that we have prepared.” Before he could give his thanks every man, woman, and child present before him bent the knee to their king. 

Perhaps he was as speechless as she was. Daenerys felt her heart pounding in her chest, he deserved this. She was glad to have been here to witness it. 

It also reminded her that her handsome king was much too humble. When they were alone on the deck of the ship and he was proclaiming his lack of titles, armies, and gold he had not spoken truthfully. Or perhaps his honor and humility were so great he did not see himself as his people did. 

The north was his alone and no one else in Westeros was more her equal than he. He was chosen to lead by people who loved him and respected him, he had earned his titles. The sight of it all moved her immeasurably. 

Daenerys’ breath caught as she subsequently realized that she was falling desperately in love with the King in the North. 

 

\----

 

He had never expected to receive such a welcome ever in his life, let alone in a city he had never stepped foot in until today. He ran a hand through his curly black hair and was thankful Queen Daenerys had agreed to stay for the feast at the castle, elsewise he would have insisted they continue on their journey and perhaps offended Lord Manderly.

Jon hoped with all his heart he would not disappoint anyone. He wanted nothing more than to do what was right. This was all he ever tried to do.

A knock at his door disturbed him from his thoughts. He moved to open it and was surprised to see the dragon queen standing there unaccompanied. Her face was stoic, but her eyes sparkled. 

He noticed her cloak was missing immediately and her dress was even more provocative without it. He tried not to think of all of the castle’s patrons that would be sure to see her in it. 

_Since when am I a jealous man?_ Jon averted his gaze for a moment.

“May I come in, your grace?” She asked with hands clasped in front of her. He noted the guards in the hallway.

He gestured for her to enter and shook his head. Quietly he said, “You do not have to call me that.” He cleared his throat and looked to the side away from her again, nervous now that they were alone. At times he found it hard to meet her eyes as he was rarely sure what to expect.

 _Was she here for... him? For the agreement?_ He swallowed. _In the middle of the day as a guest in a lord’s castle?_

Daenerys shut the door for them both and then perched herself on his bed. He tried not to imagine her in other more indecent positions and tried harder still not to stare down at her breasts, but sighed and ultimately gave up. His face flushed.

“Do you hate it?” She played with the chain of the necklace that rested on her collarbone then slid her fingertips softly down her chest in between the valley of her breasts.

He inhaled sharply and her twinkling laughter filled the room. 

She laid back on his bed and exhaled staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully. He laid down beside her acutely aware of her closeness and joined in her admiration of the ceiling above them. An artisan had carved all manner of sea creatures and plant life in painstaking detail with chisel and hammer. 

Were he alone he might have appreciated it more, but now all he could focus on was how distinctly intimate this all was.

Jon put an arm behind his head. The silence was not uncomfortable and he would be content to lay here by her side until the end of winter if the matter were up to him. 

Her soft hand sought out his between them and caressed the callouses on his palms with her fingers. They were many; some from gripping his sword, others from holding on to the reins of his horse, and one long silvery scar from when he blocked the blow from a sword with only his hand. She rubbed small circles into his palm with her thumb and traced some of the lines. It made him feel warm.

“Jon?”

“Yes?” He looked at her with half lidded eyes, suddenly tired again from his experience beyond the wall.

She turned to lie on her side, one hand supporting her head and the other holding his hand. “I cannot go to King’s Landing to meet with Cersei and neither can you. We will not go.”

“Why not?” He frowned, confused.

She looked into his eyes unwaveringly. “Because if you go you might die or be taken prisoner and I would raze all of King’s Landing to avenge you.” The queen spoke seriously and squeezed his hand. 

His heart skipped a beat. 

“I would do the same for you my queen.” He saw her gaze soften and knew that his words had pleased her.

“Then it is not worth the risk. Let us stay and fight for the living in the north. Tyrion proposed that we send Sir Davos in our stead with the wight to show Cersei.” She shook her head. 

“But I think there is a better option. He said so himself that his sister will not care, so I say let us forget about Cersei for the time being. Instead if you will allow it, I propose that Sir Davos travel to as many keeps and castles as he can to rally houses to our cause. He will show them the creature and then they will believe. If they have any desire to survive this winter they will help us.” 

Unable to resist her allure any longer Jon pulled her underneath him in one fluid movement and peppered kisses down her neck as she gasped. 

“You are as clever as you are lovely your grace.” He murmured in between kisses. 

“And you are too tempting Jon Snow.” She said dazedly. “But wait.” The queen pushed back so their mouths were only a breath apart. “Do you agree with all that I have said? You would send your most loyal man at my behest?” He moved to close the distance between them, but she turned her face.

He sighed. “Yes there is no one else I trust more and I had already thought of traveling myself to do the very same. I suppose a king should stay and lead instead.” He captured her lips then and explored the depths of her mouth until they were both short of breath.

“Jon, wait.” She panted. “There are two things you should know.” 

He regarded her, hair splayed over the dark blue duvet like a halo, warm violet eyes, and cheeks tinged with pink. He was sure he didn’t need to know anything else, but she was as stubborn as she was lovely so he supposed he should pause to listen.

Her fingertips traced the lines of his face. “Do you remember when you first awoke on the ship and saw me?” 

“Of course.” _How could he forget?_

She closed her eyes and sighed, dropping her hand back to rest on her stomach. “When I told you my dragons were the only children I would ever have, I meant what I said. I am barren.” Daenerys opened her eyes then and she looked as vulnerable as he had ever seen her.

“How do you know? Who told you?”

“The witch who killed my husband Drogo told me and I believe her.” 

_Drogo? Is that where her dragon’s name came from?_ He assumed then that she must have loved her husband very much. He felt a spark of jealousy again, but suppressed it irritated with the strange feeling. No reason in feeling jealousy for a dead man.

“What if she lied?” His eyebrow furrowed.

The queen shook her head and looked away, tears welling in her eyes then running down her face. “No Jon, I know it is true. I have had other suitors since... and I just know.” She closed her eyes and wiped her tears with her hands. 

“Forgive me, I promise this is not like me.” She laughed bitterly.

“Just with you it seems.” She exhaled and pressed her cheek to the velvety fabric of the bedspread, embarrassed.

He pulled her chin gently back and caught her lips. “I don’t care Daenerys. I want only you.” He whispered.

“Then there is the other thing. The most important.” She cupped his face with her hand and swept her thumb across his bottom lip, longing for another kiss. “I do not think I deserve you Jon Snow. You are too good for me. I mean that truly.”

His mouth opened stunned. She put a finger at his lips before he could protest.

“I have done many things I regret. I do not know if it is the dragon in me or the Targaryen madness, but regardless I chose to do them. I let my husband kill my brother Viserys in a horrific manner, I burned alive the witch who killed my husband, I crucified 163 slave masters in revenge for the 163 children they crucified on the road to Meereen to frighten me. This and more I have done.” 

“I am not innocent or good.” Daenerys locked eyes with him intensely. “Not like you are.”

Jon sighed. “You will have to tell me more about all that you have lived, and then I will tell you truly what you do and do not deserve. For now I don’t think I’m mistaken in placing my trust in you. It’s much too late besides.” The King in the North leaned over to kiss her again and she gave in, humbled and relieved.

He paused to take a breath and looked at the woman underneath him. Her lips were swollen and pink from his kisses and her face was flushed red. Her eyes too took him in and she studied him as closely as he had her. 

Encouraged that she did not push him away, he kissed her again now with less urgency and brushed his lips softly against the delicate skin of her neck as he had learned she enjoyed. He felt her shiver beneath him. She did not protest as his hands untied the belt wrapped around her waist. Without it, it was easy to bare her breasts to his eager mouth. The queen gasped at the sudden exposure and made to cover her chest, but Jon persisted and set her arms aside gently.

Soon she had forgotten all modesty and held him close as he suckled from one breast and palmed the other. She moaned breathily and arched her back into his mouth.

“Jon your guards, they will hear us.” She whispered, stilling his hands.

Confidence or perhaps impatience made him bold. “Hear you, you mean.” He gave her a beguiling smile then yanked up the skirts of her dress to squeeze the soft flesh of her thigh. She spread her legs for him without complaint, eyebrow raised in mock challenge. He slipped his hand up between her thighs, surprised to feel her wet and bare against his hand. 

Jon inhaled sharply. “You’re not wearing anything here.” His eyes darkened with desire and he felt himself throb painfully against the confines of his trousers.

Daenerys bit her lip and held her skirts out of his way. “I’m not a liar” She said breathily, eyes half closed in pleasure. 

“No you’re not.” He slipped a finger inside her slick passage and ground his length against her leg to relieve some of the pressure. The snug wetness around his finger almost proved too much for him to bear as his imagination ran wild. He closed his eyes and thanked all the gods he knew of, old ones and new for his fortune at meeting Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name. 

“Please. Take these off.” She begged and tugged at the laces at his waist. She slid her hand down and gripped his length through his breeches, drawing a deep groan from his lips. He buried his face in her breasts to muffle himself.

Not one to be left behind he rubbed a thumb on the sensitive bundle of nerves right above her opening before thrusting his finger in and out tortuously slow as she shut her eyes closed and covered her mouth with her hands to stifle her moans of pleasure. 

She trembled under him and he found he could not wait a second longer to find out how it would feel to bury himself deep inside her. He had lost count of the number of times he had imagined it since they first met.

As though hearing his thoughts her eyes shot open and she gave him an enticing smile. He throbbed painfully against her leg; she had only to smile to make him weak.

He stood and unlaced the front of his trousers deftly, unable to hide his excitement. She admired him with stormy violet eyes, her breaths coming in short pants as her gaze dropped down to his exposed manhood, large, tinged pink, and hard as he had ever been. She bit her lip and reached out a hand to grasp him, squeezing softly as his knees threatened to buckle. 

She stroked him with her soft warm hands until he could no longer breathe and he grasped her hands to still them before he spent himself.

“Come here.” His eyes drank her in as he watched her slide closer to the edge of the bed obediently and lay back on her forearms, watching him intently with her breasts rising and falling with each shaky breath. 

She spread her legs for him and he pulled her tightly against him, rubbing his hard cock against her wetness, not yet thrusting inside for fear he might finish before he was ready. It had been too long for him. The queen trembled against him and clutched at his back and hips, wishing to draw him closer.

He breathed in the scent of her hair as he buried his face against the creamy skin of her neck and crushed her breasts against his chest. He regretted they were not fully unclothed so that he could feel them against his skin. 

Jon’s hands gripped her buttocks and squeezed, lifting her to rub his swollen member against her the way she seemed to like. Desiring to bring her as close to climax as he was. Every thrust pressed against her clitoris and her sensitive nether lips and made her scream and clench her eyes shut. 

The queen had procured a throw pillow to muffle her cries, but he was sure the guards had already heard her. He tried not to feel overly satisfied with himself.

She ground her hips against him wantonly, pleading with him. “What are you waiting for? Please.” Daenerys begged him.

He gripped his erection and guided it to her opening, resisting the urge not to sheathe himself inside her at once. If he did that, he’d be sure to orgasm and end their fun. Gods, but she was so... alluring. He closed his eyes and pushed only the tip of his cock inside her, feeling her slick and tight and hot around him. She moaned and writhed underneath him. He swallowed.

“Jon Snow, I swear by all the gods if you do not stop teasing me I will make you rue this day.” The queen threatened as she struggled underneath him and clawed at his back. He choked out a laugh and pinned down her arms easily and prayed she not buck one more time or he’d surely spend himself inside her.

“If you don’t stop moving, I truly will rue this day my queen.” He panted, face flushed partially in embarrassment.

“Oh.” She froze surprised, eyes wide.

Jon had just calmed himself enough to consider thrusting himself fully inside her when a knock came at his door. He looked down at Daenerys and saw a wicked gleam in her eye that both aroused and frightened him. She arched her hips and he slid another inch inside her. His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the feeling. He was not sure how much more he could bear.

Another knock, this time more urgent.

 _I wIll kill whoever that is._

“Your grace?” A muffled voice spoke and he focused on it with all his might in lieu of the tight wet warmth surrounding his cock and the feel of her thighs wrapped around his waist.

“Stop moving your grace.” He hissed into the queen’s ear as she wriggled her hips against his. 

A third knock.

“Yes?!” Jon said exasperated.

“Forgive the intrusion, I know you’re entrenched in sovereign affairs, but Lord Manderly requests the presence of the King in the North and Daenerys Targaryen. The feast begins at sundown and he wishes to discuss the role of White Harbor in the coming war before then.” It was Sir Davos Seaworth and if he wasn’t such a kindly old knight Jon Snow might have sent him to the wall to live out the rest of his days.

The queen had the right of it thinking to send him to another city.

Daenerys kissed the side of his neck and suckled before bucking her hips up once more, wrapping her legs tightly around him and burying him deeper inside her. She gripped the coverlet in her fists and moaned softly right into his ear. His arms shook from the strain and he felt himself unable to think clearly. She might have taken Lord Manderly’s jest about his performance sincerely and wished to find out for herself. 

“We will come in a few minutes time.” He choked out. Jon heard a creak of the floorboards as the knight stepped away apparently satisfied.

Daenerys whispered into his ear. “Your grace, why don’t we come now?” 

Before he could begin to comprehend her meaning she had knocked him off balance and with more strength than he thought she possessed, rolled him onto his back and impaled herself fully on his erection. She cried out and covered her mouth with his to muffle his loud groans of pleasure. It took just one more thrust before he had spurted all of his seed deep inside her, bucking his hips up against her as he felt her own muscles spasm around him as she orgasmed. 

She collapsed against him trembling and shivered as the breeze from the open window chilled her bare back. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, not knowing whether to laugh hysterically or cover his face in embarrassment. He settled for tucking her head under his chin and trying to get his heart and breathing under control. 

“When do you think we can do that again your grace?” She whispered and looked up at him through her eyelashes. 

“Whenever you wish it.” He said flustered. She kissed him chastely and untangled herself from him. He laid there exhausted. The cold air in the room felt good against the dampness of his skin.

He opened his eyes and found the queen in front of the looking glass opposite the bed. She locked eyes with him in the reflection and laughed.

“Look at what you’ve done to me!” She turned and put her hands on her hips. It was true; she had come into his room looking well put together and regal, now her hair was a mess with pale strands stuck to the sweat of her forehead and others sticking out every which way. 

Her lips were red and her lovely dress hung crookedly on her hips while her breasts remained exposed. He admired the red mark he had left on her neck and the other on her left breast under her nipple.

Jon grinned and stood to lace up his breeches again and get his own clothes in order. “It’s true you look well and truly...”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t say it.” 

He smirked.

Jon crossed the room and captured her lips with his. He pulled back to look at her, and willed to commit her to memory as she looked now. She was so beautiful.

Daenerys blushed under his gaze and set to fixing her dress. He helped her, first with one sleeve then the other. He re-tied the belt at her waist and straightened the necklace at her chest.

The queen stared at her reflection and Jon behind her. She started to undo her hair as he admired her silently.

She combed it with her fingers and then redid the braids from memory. When she was done Jon swept the loose length of it to one side over her shoulder, hiding the mark he had left on her neck.

“There then, back to sorts.” Her eyes twinkled. “Before you had your way with me.”

“I had my way with YOU?” Jon exhaled. 

The queen laughed and pulled him to the door by his hand. “Come Jon Snow, we have _sovereign affairs_ to see to.”

“What if we stayed in this room and never left?” He held her back teasingly.

She smiled wistfully. “If only you were not a king and I was not a queen.”

 

\---

 

They entered side by side with some of the queen’s guards following behind them. The room was full to bursting with many lords and ladies along with her counselors, Jon’s men, knights, men-at-arms, and of course Lord Manderly himself. The lord sat up on a dais on a great white stone chair that looked to have been carved from bleached coral. He stood with a grunt and greeted them jovially with open arms. “Welcome welcome! We have prepared a banquet to put all others to shame.” He clapped his hands and the room quieted.

“Before we begin with the festivities your grace I would like to see what I have heard will prove true the outlandish claims about what comes for us from beyond the wall. Bring out what you have brought me, the lords and ladies of the castle too want to see the truth for themselves!” The man collapsed back in his chair.

Jon searched for his companions in the crowd and nodded when he spotted them. With some trepidation Sandor Clegane and Beric Dondarrian brought a large wooden crate to the middle of the room. The room hung in silence as everyone looked on with bated breaths. 

The hound kicked the side of the box with his boot and from the inside came a horrifying screech and banging. He lifted the lid carefully and then kicked the box over to spill its contents. From out of it crawled out a hideous monstrosity. An animated corpse dragged itself towards the dais clawing at the floor. Bits of decaying flesh clung to the bones and with it the smell of rot and death.

Screams filled the hall as men and women alike tried to run towards the archway doors. Lord Manderly motioned his guards to block them. 

“Look you fools! Rarely does one get such a good look at death.” The lord boomed and they did as he commanded, so horrified by the creature they could hardly stand to look at it.

Lord Manderly examined it carefully from his perch atop the gigantic stone chair. “What do you know about these creatures?”

“They can be killed by fire or obsidian; commonly known as dragon glass. Valyrian steel also destroys them, but regular metals are much less effective.” Jon beckoned and Clegane unsheathed his steel sword and cut off the wight’s hand. The hand continued to crawl forward, independent of the body much to the surprise and terror of everyone in attendance save for Jon and Daenerys’ party. 

“What’s worse is that they are led by inhuman generals, where the wights are mindless peons these commanders are like us. They are intelligent. Leading them is another we have named the Night King. These generals are not many in number, but they are difficult to kill and extremely dangerous. We know not their motivations, only that they are headed this way and destroy everything and everyone in their path.” He glanced at Daenerys who only observed the reaction of their host.

“How many in the army of the dead?” Manderly frowned.

“Over 100,000 and growing by the day my lord.” Jon said gravely.

The lord looked away disgusted as a rotten piece of flesh fell off of the corpse, shaken from what he had seen. “Take that thing away, I need not see more!”

Jon gestured to the hound and the tall man kicked and prodded the wight back into the crate with the help of another of their companions. He stepped on the crawling hand and then threw it in the box with the rest of the corpse before sliding on the lid and carrying it away. 

The lord grimaced. “You are my king and I am a dutiful bannerman. Let it not be said that Lord Manderly shirks his honor bound duty. After what I have seen I pledge 3,000 of my men and a fleet of war ships to ferry them up to Winterfell by the next new moon.” He shook his head. “But this is not all I have to offer your grace.”

The large man cleared his throat and stroked his beard. “I have three unwed daughters. I bid thee take one to wife my king and make me the father of a queen. Do this and I will send the entirety of my army and call my own banners to your cause. Aye I will send every able bodied man and woman in White Harbor and the lands under my domain north to aide you.” 

The man steepled his fat fingers. “We number well into the tens of thousands your grace. If the long night comes again then you will need every hand.” 

Lord Manderly turned jovial again. “Let us unite Stark and Manderly like our ancestors once did. As you can see my daughters are very comely, fortunately for you they take after their mother.” He laughed heartily and his vassals laughed with him.

Daenerys hid her displeasure well. _Surely he wouldn’t?_ But what better offer was he like to get? The thought of him marrying had never occurred to her before, but truly it made her feel ill.

“In addition, in the event we miraculously survive this horror you will give your word as the son of Eddard Stark and King in the North that the north will play no part in the game of thrones of Daenerys Targaryen. Once she sets her sights on King’s Landing you will remain neutral and keep us out of the fray.” 

The queen did not react though she felt the eyes of the room on her. She looked to Jon who had listened to all his bannerman had said respectfully. He took a step towards the dais.

“My lord, forgive me. I am grateful for the offer and do not mean to offend your daughters. Any man would be lucky to take one of them for his wife.” Jon smiled in their direction, one as young as 8 peeked out shyly from behind her sister’s skirts. The others blushed at the praise.

“But I will need time to think on your offer, as for the other thing I can make no promises.” He turned to look at Daenerys. “I have bent the knee to Queen Daenerys first of her name. She is the rightful queen of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm. When we defeat the Night King and his army of the dead I will follow her with whatever remains of the north and help her take back what is hers.”

Lord Manderly’s eyes hardened and from the gasps and angry whispers in the audience there were many who shared his sentiments. The man struggled to stand once more, but managed to without the assistance of his vassals, heaving to his feet with a huff.

“Like I have said, you are my king and it is my duty as your bannerman to answer your call to defend the north. I will not be the first Manderly in hundreds and hundreds of years to break faith with the Starks.” The man gritted his teeth and clenched his fists angrily. “But I will not send my men to fight in another pointless southern war in which we have nothing to gain. This foreigner isn’t my queen!” He spat. 

“That is regretful Lord Manderly.” Daenerys spoke for the first time, tilting her head marginally to the side. “Is it not too the duty of a bannerman to follow his liege lord and heed his call to arms? Ignore the call and after I take King’s Landing I will turn and come for this city.”

The great lord scoffed. “You are but a girl, without your dragons what are you?”

She walked around the room slowly, the heels of her boots clicking on the stone floor. “It is true, I am but a young girl innocent in the ways of war or Westerosi custom, but ask yourselves my good lords and ladies if you would truly like to make an enemy of me. I have conquered many cities. I have ridden with the khal of khals, survived the house of the undying, countless assassins, and the great desert of Essos. ” She spun on her heel to lock eyes with Lord Manderly.

“I have stepped into the burning pyre on which rested the body of my murdered husband; the greatest Khal who ever lived. From this I walked out unburnt clutching three dragons. I have destroyed Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. I have killed all of the khals in the Mother of Mountains without spilling a drop of blood in the sacred city and united a khalesar of 100,000. I have an army of unsullied that I freed and fight for me because they believe in me. Freemen and mercenaries alike, the Second Sons, Windblown, and Stormcrows also crossed the narrow sea for _me_.” The queen spoke directly to Lord Manderly, ignoring the sea of faces. 

“Were you present south of the King’s Road then you would have seen a field of fire with Lannister soldiers burned to ash, plate and swords and all. Answer me then, would you rather be my enemy or my friend?” 

Outside the flapping of her dragon’s wings grew louder as Lord Manderly’s eyes grew wider. The sound of one of her dragon’s landing on one of the towers of the castle was thunderous as dust and bits of stone fell above their heads. Drogon roared outside and the room erupted in screams of panic. Daenerys only examined the northern lord. 

She’d be sure to get an earful from both Missandei and Tyrion about this later, but for now she did not care. Olenna Tyrell had also been her advisor once and she bid her be a dragon not a lamb and so a dragon she would be.

“Enough!” The Lord boomed. “Quiet all of ye!” He glared and slammed a large fist on the arm of his chair. 

The room became silent. 

He brushed the dust from his tunic. “You need not continue Queen Daenerys, anymore threats and my children will not sleep this night. Know this, the north has always been independent and I am not the only lord who will share these misgivings with you whether the King has bent the knee or not.” He scowled.

“Let us put this matter to bed and think of the first battle, the one for the dawn. That is the one that matters now.” The lord shook his head. 

“In that we agree my lord.” The queen fingered a strand of hair and smiled disarmingly.

“Then let us feast! Bring out the tables and trenchers. Gods know I need some ale.” He waved his hand towards the back of the room and the servants jumped to do his bidding. 

Daenerys felt her dragon seek out the skies once again, aware that any perceived danger had passed. At once the room exploded with chatter and the empty middle where they were standing filled with people as everyone clamored to greet the King in the North and the last Targaryen.

And so they feasted and drank well into the evening and by the fourth cup they had all but forgotten any of the previous hostility between them.

 

 


	4. A Departure and Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a long one. Whether you hate it or love it, comments are much appreciated. Hope you enjoy and see you next Monday!

 

 

Jon had slept restlessly through the night and dreamt of the night king and his army, dragons and Daenerys, but most of all he dreamt of the freezing cold. 

He awoke to find snow blowing in through his open window. He rose and fought against the biting wind to shut it, shivering all the while. The stone below his feet was wet and shocking compared to the warmth from his bed. The hearth had burned down to embers and the room was so icy he could see the condensation of his breath. 

The sun had not yet begun to peek over the horizon, but he could tell from the way the darkness had started to lift that it undoubtedly would soon. Most of the castles occupants would still be fast asleep. He considered laying in bed once again, but knew he would be unable to shake the cold. 

Resigned, he dressed warmly, strapping Longclaw to his hip. He was not like to return to this room again before they parted for Winterfell. He stopped at the door and turned to look back, though dark he could still make out the deep ocean blue of the duvet on his bed. It reminded him of Daenerys and all that had occurred there just yesterday. 

He flushed and shut the door, leaning against it for a moment. The hallways were pitch black as nearly all of the torches and candles had burnt out and it was still much too early for any servants to be up to replace them. He imagined briefly he'd run into the dragon queen and perhaps they'd have another private moment here in the darkness while the castle slept. Their first encounter had been far too brief. Recalling it was enough to make him feel warm again.

Jon wandered the corridors of the castle halfheartedly seeking the kitchens to break his fast, but in no real rush to find them immediately. It gave him time to think. So much had occurred yesterday it made his head spin.

Lord Manderly's offer to wed one of his daughters in exchange for his army and influence would have tempted any ordinary man, but it only served to confuse him. Before he met Daenerys Targaryen, he may have considered it. It was what was best for the realm, and it gave them the best chance for survival. 

He always wished to do what was right, but now he was torn. He knew without a doubt that he didn't want to marry one of Manderly's daughters. He did not want to sacrifice whatever it was that he had with the dragon queen. 

For the first time in his life he wanted to do the selfish thing, and he felt supremely guilty for it. Jon did not know if he was a fool, but he knew what was in his heart and he had never seriously entertained the idea of marrying anyone, let alone someone he did not love. 

What he truly wanted was to get back on that ship with Daenerys Targaryen and set sail with no particular destination in mind. He wanted to live out his life somewhere warm where he had no obligations and white walkers were still only tales meant to frighten children into doing as they were told.

But he could not have all that he wanted. Perhaps for once he could have just the one, just Daenerys. _I hope I am not making a terrible mistake._ Jon exhaled, conflicted.

Ruling and diplomacy, courtesies and arranged marriages, how did he go from the simple life of a man of the nights watch to the King in the North? He wasn't his brother Robb who had been groomed as a child to grow up to be the next Lord of Winterfell after their father. He had no such training. Robb should still be King in the North, not him. 

But he was dead and Jon was still alive. Sometimes he wondered why the god of fire had brought him back instead of his brothers or his father. That too confused him greatly.

The smell of baking bread interrupted his thoughts. He listened carefully and could scarcely make out faint noises coming from somewhere ahead. He followed the smell and sounds down a flight of marble stairs and was taken aback to find Tyrion Lannister sitting at a wooden table inside a dimly lit room adjoining the kitchens.

“Hungry?” The man tore a piece of bread from the loaf in front of him and popped it into his mouth.

“Lord Tyrion, I did not expect to see you or anyone at this hour.” Jon sat down across from him, surprised.

He heard a clatter as a wooden tray hit the floor behind him and a bowl with figs spilled out over the floor, rolling almost where they were seated. A servant blanched upon seeing them both.

“M'lord, your grace, beg pardon.” The old woman went down on her hands and knees to clean up the mess, her limbs shaking from nerves. 

Jon stood and made to help her, but Tyrion grabbed the back of his cloak and shook his head. “Your grace, you're a king now.”

He shrugged him off. “Then I can do as I like.” Jon helped the old woman who only stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers. He then took her arm and pulled her to her feet. Her wrinkled hands trembled as she clutched the bowl and tray with white knuckles.

“Can you bring me something to break my fast? Anything will do.” He asked.

The woman nodded, stunned. “At once your grace.” Then she all but ran from the room.

“Keep that up and your people may even grow to love you.” Tyrion grinned, waggling a piece of bacon at him. The sight of it made him realize he was absolutely famished. 

“What brings you here so early in the morning Lord Tyrion?” 

The man shrugged and took a bite of bacon, chewing thoughtfully. “Lose an hour in the morning, and you will be all day hunting for it. Some wise man said that once to me, but in fact your arrival is quite the coincidence, as I was just thinking that you and I needed to have a chat.”

“What about?” Jon asked warily. 

“I have a simple question for you Jon Snow. What do you think of our Queen?” Tyrion drank deeply from a cup by his plate then leaned back in his chair to examine him.

 

“What do I think of her? Well she's...” _Stunning, arousing, brilliant, kind_ , he wracked his head for something appropriate to say.

He settled on “Formidable.”

Tyrion snorted. "No," he took another bite. "I mean physically. You know. This." He gestured to his face and body exaggeratedly. 

“She's...” He hesitated. “Very comely?”

The man choked, coughing to dislodge the food stuck in his throat. “Really? Comely? That's the word that comes to mind?” The man looked at him deadpan.

“Well I'm not blind.” Jon said frustrated. “She's young and gorgeous.” He ran a hand through his dark hair nervously. “Obviously.”

“Yes, obviously.” Tyrion stared at him. "Thank you." He tapped his arm with the end of a loaf of bread in his hand. “Now, what do you think of marrying her?”

Had Jon been eating or drinking anything, it would have been his turn to choke. The blood drained out of his face. “I-I can't.”

“What? You just told me she was comely lad.” The queen’s hand raised an eyebrow.

“No I’ve taken a vow. Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.”

Tyrion sighed. “I know the bloody oath. Are you telling me you’ve died then? You’re conveniently forgetting the verse after that one that says you shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I distinctly remember you winning the battle of the bastards and being named King in the North not long after that. So try again, what other excuse can you possibly have?”

“Daenerys is a queen.” Jon argued.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “I’m going to assume you’re going somewhere with that.”

“And I'm just a bastard playing at a king.” Jon had lost his appetite. 

“So you’d rather her marry someone else? This is what you prefer?” 

The queen was descendant of a royal family, ancestor of Aegon the conqueror himself, and he had not considered until now that someday she would marry and set him aside for a man more befitting her title.

“No... I don’t prefer that.” He clenched his fist and averted his eyes.

“You're a dense one aren't you Jon Snow.” Tyrion rubbed his temples. 

In that moment two servants came in carrying trays piled high with all manner of foods. Boiled eggs, cheeses, salted meats including a rasher of crisp bacon. There were pastries and cakes, a cup of honeyed milk, fruit tarts, and more. Tyrion gaped at it all.

“All they gave me was a loaf of bread, figs that ended up on the floor, and some burnt bacon, mind you I like it that way but still.” He stole a pastry from a tray.

“I'm not dense Lord Tyrion. I'm realistic.”

“No _you_ are thick headed, perhaps the Starks run that way. You're a king, she's a queen. What more do you need? Afraid you'll bore her in bed is it?”

Jon slammed the cup he had just picked up angrily, sloshing its contents onto the table. “What makes you think she'd just agree to marry me?"

“I've seen the way she looks at you and unlike everyone else I'm not an idiot. Besides you're the key to the North and Lord Manderly's little speech about neutrality and staying out of a southern war yesterday made me realize the man has a point.” Tyrion drummed on the wooden table, ogling a lemon cake.

“There's nothing in it for the northern houses to fight for our queen in the south, provided any of us survive what's coming for us that is. Sure she can promise them lands and gold and the entirety of Casterly Rock, but they don't know her and her threats last evening will not be forgotten as easily as the tides wash away footsteps on sand. Words are wind. Now if their king became King of the Seven Kingdoms, then yes that would be different wouldn't it?”

Jon dared to think of it for a moment. He had no interest in crowns or ruling, but spending the rest of his lifetime, however short it may be with Daenerys Targaryen by his side did sound appealing. He had even considered it once, when he had awoken to find her sitting on his bed waiting for him on the ship. It had occurred to him to ask her to marry him in a brief moment of insanity. He blamed his injuries and exhaustion for the strange thought.

“Would she agree?” Jon stared down at his plate somberly.

“If you asked her I suppose she would.” He nodded, breaking the delicate cake into smaller squares. “I've already spoken to her of it.”

His heart stopped. 

“When? The sun hasn't risen yet.” And he had been near the queen almost the entire evening at the feast the night prior. He recalled how she had commanded the attention of the room, sitting amongst the soldiers for a time and then with the nobles or the children as everyone crowded around her listening to her stories from her life across the narrow sea. He did not miss the looks of other men as they undressed her with their eyes, or when they whispered in her ear and made her laugh. 

She had smiled charmingly the entire night, enthralling even Lord Wyman Manderly and his daughters. The youngest had taken a liking to her necklace and without a care she had unpinned it from her dress and placed it around the girl’s neck as a keepsake.

Sir Jorah Mormont, the queen’s kindly knight had followed her around everywhere she went, at times placing his hand familiarly on the queen’s lower back when the crowds would gather too tightly. Jon thought his hand lingered too long on her person. 

Tyrion cleared his throat, bringing him back to the present. “I spoke to her this morning of course.” The man leaned back in his chair, done with breakfast for now.

“She left only moments before you came in my northern friend. If she'd have stayed to eat as I'd advised, you would have seen her.”

“Where did she go?” He asked, surprised.

“She wanted to see the sunrise over White Harbor from above. Couldn’t talk her out of it. I imagine she's just now gotten far enough away to find an open field from which to take off from. Perhaps if you hurry you might catch her and make your proposal.” The man's eyes twinkled mischievously.

Jon shook his head. “How will I know the way?”

“From what I remember of the maps of these lands the tree line ends somewhere to the north. That's likely the safest bet.”

Without another word the King in the North went in search of the dragon queen.

 

\---

 

Daenerys had exited the relative protection the castle offered through a small postern gate that opened into a frozen garden. It was snowing heavily and the wind whipped her hair wildly, but she would not be dissuaded. Above the clouds she knew it did not rain or snow. She lifted the hood of her cloak to shelter her from the blizzard, holding it in place with gloved hands as the wind threatened to knock it back.

The snow crunched under her boots as she walked. Fortunately the ground was mostly ice and the snows had not piled high as they were sure to do as winter settled. She observed through the storm that the flowers were dead, all save the winter roses growing stubbornly on the walls of the castle and against a trellis along the path she walked on. She touched a petal with the tip of her finger gently, removing her glove to feel it. 

_Curious._ She thought. Daenerys did not know anything could survive in these temperatures. 

The darkness was slowly ebbing as a sliver of sun peeked over the horizon. She continued, following the roses and gravel path towards an archway that broke into the forest behind New Castle. She had not seen a sunrise since Dragonstone, and it had never occurred to her to see one on dragonback until this morning. White Harbor would be beautiful from high above provided the blizzard abated long enough for her to get a clear view down.

She walked at a quick pace through the forest, but she was not afraid. After all she had lived if something out here killed her she’d sum it up to fate. Besides, with her dragons so close there were not like to be other animals out in the open. 

Her dragons were so large now they had nowhere to land near the castle and she also did not want to frighten anyone with the sound of their wings, thus she was left with no other option than to find a clearing elsewhere.

The moon shone brightly overhead and she was grateful for it illuminated her way. Soon the forest thinned and she saw a wide open field covered in a blanket of white, and icy in patches where the dew had frozen to the blades of grass. The field reminded her of the one she had scorched on Drogon’s back south near the road to the Reach. The screams of Lannister soldiers roasting alive inside their armor haunted her. They appeared in her nightmares, flesh sloughing off as it melted, arms outstretched for her. 

She tried to remind herself that this was war. They would kill her as easily as she them had they the chance. One of them, Tyrion's brother, had tried to end the war right then and there. It was the first time she had seen the Kingslayer in person, the man who shoved a sword through her father’s back. She knew him instantly from his Lannister hair and his golden hand, she could naught but stare as he charged her. She only stood frozen in shock. 

Were it not for Drogon's sudden burst of flame in her defense, Jaime may have speared her as he wanted and the war would have ended in that moment.

She would worry about Cersei and her brother after and if they won the battle for the dawn. Until then it made no matter that they remained a threat south of the neck. What was the worst that they could do? Their armies were battleworn, weary, and depleted.

She stood in the middle of the clearing and stared up at the sky. The moon was full and lovely while the stars flickered in one thousand and one lights. The night was beautiful even in the storm. 

Daenerys knew they would come, she did not understand how her dragons knew when they were needed, but they always came when she wanted. If there was ever a time where she waited and they did not arrive she would not know what to do.

Soon she saw dark shadows flying overhead, they circled above and Drogon landed first, blowing leaves and wind in her hair. Rhaegal landed closer to the tree line, much more gently than his larger brother. She wished that she had gotten an opportunity to meet her dragon's namesake. Rhaegar was like a mythological figure to her, a man who had songs written about him, who knew how to fight like the other great men of his time, but preferred the harp to the sword. 

Her brother Viserys would curse her when she was young and grip her arms tightly, leaving bruises in the shape of his hands. He would tell her as though she were to blame, that she was born too late. 

He believed that were she born sooner then Rhaegar Targaryen would not have married sickly Elia Martell of Dorne and perhaps he would not have run away with Lyanna Stark. They would have wed in the traditional Targaryen fashion, brother to sister to keep the bloodline pure.

That made her feel strange. At times when Viserys drank too much he would tell her that they would wed when he took back the seven kingdoms from the usurper. She would always pray that he would fail. That was before he sold her off to the Dothraki, so perhaps her prayers were answered.

Daenerys did not regret that life, but even in the beginning when Drogo saw her only as a broodmare to be mounted as he liked and he left her bruised and sore she believed she would not have preferred to marry her brother over her horselord husband. Viserys would have hurt her more. He had a violent temperament and besides that they had grown together. When she was still small and he a child they had played games and laughed as children did. It would have felt wrong to lay with him as his wife and fulfill her duties in producing an heir. The thought had always made her ill.

She rubbed the scales on Drogon's head. They were warm and hard as steel. He closed his eyes content to allow her to caress him or perhaps only tolerating her ministrations. His head was the size of a small carriage, large enough to swallow a man whole if he wished. 

Knowing the sun would not wait, she pulled herself up Drogon's back using his horns and spikes as handholds. She wondered if this was how the dragonlords of Old Valyria mounted their dragons before the doom destroyed the empire in a single day. It did not look very regal or graceful, but she knew no other way. She’d imagine as Drogon grew larger it would be even harder to mount him.

“Sōvēs” She spoke the command and braced herself for the violent jolt she would feel when Drogon spread his wings and flew, but it never came. He rested under her immobile, much to her confusion.

She repeated the command, her one hand holding on to a spike and the other on the dragon’s neck in an attempt to coax him. Drogon lay his head down on the grass sleepily and Daenerys looked down at him from her perch in shock. This had never happened before. Rhaegal too had not moved at her command.

Ahead of her she saw the bronze and green dragon lift his head and look towards the tree line curiously. 

_Is there something there?_

A familiar figure emerged. Though in the darkness and snowfall she could not see his face, she would recognize his silhouette in an instant.

 _It was almost as if... Drogon and Rhaegal had waited for Jon Snow to appear._ She did not understand. She knew that they were very intelligent; Tyrion had told her that they were as smart as man. It was a frightening and strange prospect. Then and now she knew not what to make of it.

The winds settled some, but the snow continued falling heavily. She slid down Drogon's side and waited to see what Jon Snow would do next. Would he be brave enough to walk past Rhaegal and Drogon to come to her? Drogon had let him come close before on Dragonstone, much to her surprise and bewilderment.

He stood there in front of Rhaegal, only a few feet apart. They examined each other closely, and she felt fear grip her heart like a vice. Jon took a step forward and extended a hand wearily towards the dragon’s head. 

_No._ Daenerys found she could not breathe or speak. 

The dragon nostrils flared imperceptivity, watching him with intelligent, serpentine eyes. Jon only stared unable to look away. His position was so vulnerable that there would be no chance for him to think if the dragon decided it wished to kill him. Daenerys did not know what to do. 

“I will not harm you." His hand shook as he finally placed it on the dragon’s neck; the animal's breath was hot against the ground below, melting the ice. The way the dragon examined him was almost humanlike and served to unnerve the queen greatly. She was at a loss; not wanting to startle either of them, but worried for Jon’s safety in the close proximity of a creature that could kill him as easily as she might crush a fly.

A moment passed tensely.

The dragon slowly averted its gaze and rested its gigantic head back on the snow, peaceful once again. The queen exhaled, confused, but relieved. 

If she thought the danger had passed, then she was mistaken.

Jon did not know what possessed him to climb onto the dragon’s back, but he did it instinctively and marveled at how familiar to mounting a horse it was. It was frightening, but something deep inside him told him this was right. Rhaegal's scales were strangely warm to the touch underneath him.

Daenerys stared at him with eyes wide and a hand covering her mouth. Neither spoke a word. The dragon had not even lifted his head. 

Nothing made a sound and the world stilled. Jon could feel the blood thundering in his veins as he stared down at the ground below and at the queen’s horror stricken face.

She stared at him in disbelief, but did not speak for fear the moment would be ruined. She turned back slowly and walked the few paces to Drogon in silence before turning back again and gazing at him. He could not read the expression on her face.

After a time Daenerys climbing back on Drogon and whispered something he could not make out and he had scarcely time to hold on tightly before the dragons sought the skies and flew.

Jon felt his heart racing in his chest as the beast flapped its wings and climbed into the heavens with him on its back holding on fearfully. Daenerys climbed higher and Rhaegal followed his brother Drogon from a distance. 

He was only along for the ride as he did not know what to do now. He had never thought to ask the dragon queen how she controlled Drogon.

He felt he was still dreaming and considered in a moment of panic that if he fell perhaps he would awaken in his bed once more and start the day anew.

 _What did this mean?_ He wondered. _Were not only the Targaryens able to ride dragons?_ Did this have anything to do with his death at the wall? Jon could not make sense of it.

He remembered the connection he had with Ghost, the wolf felt almost like an extension of himself. The wildlings had called him a warg, but he had never been able to see through another animal’s eyes or ever felt another similar type of connection.

This felt almost like that, but still wholly different. He desperately wanted to speak to Daenerys, but she was too far ahead and it was too loud to hear. 

So he waited, only holding on tightly as Rhaegal climbed after his brother, higher and higher. He buried his face against the dragon's neck to protect his eyes from the biting wind. He felt it burning his exposed skin.

Finally the dragon leveled, and the blizzard was seemingly behind them. He raised his head, his arms shaking minutely as he realized the blizzard was under them, not behind. They were flying above the clouds. 

It was no wonder Aegon the conqueror and his sisters had been considered otherworldly by many, this was the view of the gods. 

From here he could see the curvature of the world, the blue sea to the east and south, mountains and forest to the north, and the White Knife to the west. 

Drogon glided leisurely towards the sunrise and Rhaegal followed him. Daenerys’s hair shone like beaten silver as the wind blew it behind her in a loose curtain. Her long hair was one of his favorite characteristics. She did not often wear it loose as she did now. 

Rhaegal picked up speed and caught up with his larger brother. He turned to look at the dragon queen across the distance between them and she stared back at him in wonder, astounded. 

Together they glided and watched the sunrise over White Harbor and the sea. The water shone like glittering gems from the light. Under them the blizzard ended and the world below was revealed again. Daenerys flew down below the clouds as Jon followed. 

They saw the port, the merchant’s alleys, New Castle, and a sea of white with scattered trees dotting the land that comprised the north. From the city they had an unobstructed view of the river which flowed from the sea to past the horizon where it disappeared. It was the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

When the sun had risen completely they descended, and Jon marveled at the strange feeling in his stomach as the altitude shifted dramatically.

Drogon landed first in the same clearing they had left from. Rhaegal followed and settled with a thump, nearly dislodging Jon from his seat.

He slid down the dragon's side as he had seen Daenerys do and looked back at the dragon queen breathlessly, his hands and limbs trembling.

She stepped towards him, her head tilted in the way it did when she was about to ask him a question he did not know the answer to.

"Who are you Jon Snow?" She stopped in front of him and ran her hand softly down the fur lining his cloak. Her proximity made him nervous.

"I-I don't know what possessed me. I can't explain it." He shook his head ashamed.

Daenerys examined Jon's face for a time and he let her without a word, he did not know what to say. 

“What are you doing here?” Daenerys clasped his cheek with a gloved hand gently, staring up at him violet eyes open wide with wonder.

“I came looking for you. The cold did not let me sleep.”

Her eyes twinkled. “You were right about northern winters Jon Snow and it seems we both cannot bear the cold when we sleep.” He smiled at her and bid he not drown in the depth of her eyes. 

She dropped her gaze and it lingered on his lips before she raised her eyes again. “You may have a drop of dragon blood in your lineage Jon Snow. I don't know quite how much is enough to ride a dragon. I know my children have taken a liking to Tyrion Lannister, he has gotten as close as you or I, but the dragons would have never let him mount them as Rhaegal let you. We surmised that somewhere in his family history one of his ancestors had married a Targaryen, but this does not fully explain you.” Daenerys furrowed her brow.

“Where were you born Jon? What do you know of your father and mother?”

Jon sighed. “I was born somewhere in the south, in Dorne. I don't know exactly where. I don't know who my mother was. I only know Ned Stark is my father.”

“The Martells of Dorne and my family often intermarried. Perhaps you are a long lost Prince of Dorne.” Daenerys smiled mischievously, satisfied with this explanation for now. 

“Perhaps.” The corner of his mouth turned up.

The queen closed the distance between them, clenching the fabric of his cloak in her fists to pull him down for a breathy kiss. 

They parted and again he was short of words. Her eyes softened as she gazed into his, searching in their depths for the answer to an unspoken question.

"Marry me Jon Snow." She whispered, staring at him intensely.

He exhaled.

She fingered a strand of silver hair and shook her head. “Fate has brought us together. There's more than coincidence here. Two dragons for two riders... the events that had to happen to lead us to this moment in time. It’s all too difficult to comprehend. We have both survived death and beyond. Not just the fear of death, but death itself. When I walked into the pyre in that desert I felt myself die yet I did not burn, at the wall your sworn brothers killed you did they not?” 

Jon's eyes widened. She placed a finger at his lips before he could speak. “Yes I know this and more Jon Snow. You are no ordinary man. Come and be with me as you proposed on the ship not long ago, but truly be with me. Stand by my side and share with me the weight of ruling. Let us defeat this Night King with an alliance strengthened through marriage.” She clasped his hand, squeezing tightly as he found his voice again. 

“You would share the iron throne with me, a bastard born outside of the great houses, a man who joined the Nights Watch because he had nothing else to aspire to?”

She shook her head, "You're not a bastard to me and I grow tired of the word, it does not define you. I bid you see yourself as we all see you, look now at the man and kill the bastard boy with no land, gold, or titles. I will make you the King of the Seven Kingdoms and no man would ever question your origins again or risk offending your queen." Her violet eyes twinkled and his heart leapt in his throat.

"If you'll have me Daenerys Targaryen, then I’d be a fool to refuse.” He said as he caressed her pink cheek with his hand. 

They kissed again, more urgently and more passionately than before and all Jon could think of was the overwhelming joy in his heart as he held her tightly to his chest, unwilling to let her go for fear of waking up from this dream.

 

\----

 

They said their goodbyes to New Castle and Lord Manderly pulled Jon into a fatherly hug. He whispered something in his ear Daenerys could not make out and saw Jon nod acquiescently.

Young Myriame Manderly ran to hug her and thank her again for her gift the night before, promising to keep it always. 

"You will always have a friend in me my lady, should you ever need something of me you need only write." The queen smiled at her fondly. She so wished she was able to have children.

With the plan to marry Jon in motion, the problem of finding an heir would become paramount. How long before the other lords would begin to suspect that something was amiss when she did not grow with child? 

She tried not to think of it, there was much that had to occur before that became a pressing issue. 

Manderly's other daughters curtsied to her politely and kissed her chastely on the cheek, blonde hair swirling in the winds of winter. For their departure Daenerys wore her silver hair braided in the Dothraki fashion. Her hair was growing long, when loose it hung to the small of her back. She hoped she would remain undefeated in battle so as to keep it at this length. This was one of the customs of Dothraki culture she embraced and cherished. 

On this morning she met Lord Manderly’s son, he was balding like his father and nearly as large. He had just returned to White Harbor after making the rounds of the other castles and houses in his father’s domain. He stared wide eyed at Jon and the silver haired queen; his eyes grew wider still looking at Tyrion Lannister and the Dothraki in her party. The dragon queen hid her amused smile and bid him farewell.

Lastly she stood in front of the Great Lord of White Harbor. Lord Manderly kissed her on the back of her hand, pulling her close enough his large dark blue cloak blew into her legs. “I hope you will remember the kindness House Manderly and White Harbor granted your friend the King in the North. Aye and all that we have pledged to aide you in the Great War when it is finished and you consider returning to raze this city to its foundations.” He patted her hand. “It was an honor to host the last living Targaryen; I will remember this meeting until my last dying breath. I wish you and yours good fortune in the trials to come.” He grinned. 

She nodded, lips twitching in an attempt to conceal her smile. _I too am not like to forget you Lord Manderly._ She thought.

After this they followed a procession of man at arms with the sigil of House Manderly on their shields. Daenerys admired the spotted great and white mare she rode; it reminded her of Drogo's wedding gift to her a lifetime ago. She patted the horse gently on the neck and rode behind the guards, she missed riding. It was both so similar and different to riding Drogon. 

Tyrion rode beside her with Jon and Davos at the front. Her lord hand gave her a meaningful look, gesturing at Jon with his eyes and then back to her again, asking a question without speaking a word.

She nodded, pleased at his grin in response. If she made their King in the North the King of the Seven Kingdoms, his bannermen would surely support them. She hoped that unified they could convince other lords to join them in the coming battle at Winterfell against the army of the dead and then assuming they survived, march down and take King's Landing.

She wondered if she had dreamt the events of this morning or if they were true. Daenerys had never considered that she was not the only one living able to ride a dragon. The sight of Jon on Rhaegal’s back as though he were born with the knowledge to do so had stunned her into silence. 

Once they were aboard the barge on the river she would share the news with Tyrion and Missandei. Her lord hand especially was sure to find it fascinating.

On their walk back to New Castle after the sun had risen, Jon and she had not thought it wise to flaunt their betrothal in front of their host. That would be better left revealed at a more opportune time. 

She tried not to feel too giddy with excitement, but since his acceptance her mood was considerably more cheerful than it had been in a long time. More so even than after the events in Jon’s chamber the day prior.

She blushed as she remembered.

They rode along for a time in relative silence past the portcullis and out into the cobblestone streets. Soon they passed amongst the crowd who cheered them and threw winter blooms and colorful thin bolts of cloth into the air. She observed Jon’s wistful look, clearly embarrassed and humbled even now. 

He would make a wonderful King. 

The townsfolk lined the sides of the street from the castle all the way down to the river docks. Even when they boarded they could still hear them cheering outside.

Tyrion, Missandei, Jon and the dragon queen settled into plush chairs surrounding a low table at the center. Windows with dark blue curtains lined the room, myrish carpets were piled on limestone floors and lysene lanterns adorned the walls. This was no ordinary river barge, House Manderly afterall was one of the richest houses left Westeros.

A stone fireplace heated the room comfortably enough that Daenerys removed her cloak, relieved at how much lighter she felt. The others joined her, at ease now in private and away from any outsiders.

“Well Lord Manderly certainly spared no expense.” Tyrion stated the obvious as he unclipped the cloak from his person and draped it over the arm of his chair.

“He does want Jon Snow to marry one of his daughters, Lord Tyrion. Perhaps he means to purchase the marriage.” Missandei's eyes crinkled in amusement. 

Daenerys and Jon shared a look for a moment, but her sharp eyed hand did not miss it.

“I believe some wine is in order?” Tyrion poured four cups from the flagon on the table. “We should celebrate!”

“Wine already Lord Tyrion? It’s hardly midday.” Daenerys fingered the fur fringe of her sleeve, face flushed.

“Celebrate what my lord? I am not much for wine.” Missandei took the cup anyways, holding it awkwardly. 

Tyrion clinked their glasses obnoxiously. “Haven't you heard, our queen is getting married to the King in the North!” 

Missandei gasped, looking from her queen to Jon Snow who stared in mock interest into the depths of his cup.

“Your grace, was I the last to know? When did this happen?”

“In the early morning, I am sorry my friend.” Daenerys placed her hand on Missandei’s arm in apology, glancing minutely at Jon. “To tell it true, I had not intended such a sudden event. There is other news also, but do not despair Missandei, my lord of Lannister is not privy to everything.”

The cup froze at Tyrion’s lips and Daenerys reveled in his confusion a moment. “Today Rhaegal; the green and bronze dragon let Jon approach him.” The queen took a sip of wine. “He climbed him as he has seen me do and we flew into the sky on dragonback.”

Tyrion was not often shocked, but this was unforeseen even for him. “We do you mean you flew into the sky on dragonback? Who is we?”

"I rode Drogon and Jon Snow rode Rhaegal. I do not know how he was able, but he was.” Daenerys stroked the end of her braid absentmindedly as she remembered. It sounded ridiculous to her ears even as she spoke it. 

_Who is he really?_ She thought. _I’ve been so enamored by him, yet I do not know him._

“Impossible.”

“I assure you this is what happened. My eyes did not deceive me, trust me my lord it is hard to mistake such a thing.” Daenerys said.

Tyrion took a big gulp of wine. “Next you'll tell me Prince Rhaegar's come back from the dead. You are certain? Jon rode a dragon? By himself?”

She nodded, exhaling deeply.

Tyrion studied the northerner closely saying not a word. Missandei too sat speechless, debating whether to drink the wine in her glass or not. After a time he spoke. “I'll spare you my theories for now, I need to speak to the maester at Winterfell before I'm sure of anything. But I'll admit, this scenario has never occurred to me.”

“Nor me Lord Tyrion.” Jon added, running a hand through his dark hair and sighing.

Daenerys stood and paced about the room with her hands behind her back. “Tell me, how should we approach this marriage, the dragons, and the coming battle?”

“It is much to piece together. I do not believe it wise to show our hand so soon at Winterfell. Let us arrive and assess the situation. Mayhaps these northerners will be more keen to please you than the Lord of White Harbor your grace. We will tell them the King in the North has bent the knee and the Lord of White Harbor has pledged men and galleys to our cause, but mostly we will watch and listen. The north is unforgiving and treacherous especially in winter. Were I you I’d keep the union a secret.” He thumbed his chin.

The queen tried not to show her disappointment. She had hoped to avoid slinking about the castle and stealing heated glances with her handsome king behind the backs of their friends and bannermen, but at least that would prove entertaining. 

“As for the dragons, you will have to teach him to ride I am sure. If such a thing can be taught of course.” Tyrion sighed. “I am quite jealous Jon Snow. King of the Seven Kingdoms and dragonrider in one day. Some men have all the luck.” He shook his head wistfully. 

Missandei spoke. “My queen, the Unsullied and Dothraki continue their way to Winterfell. The Stormcrows, Windblown, and Second Sons remain on Dragonstone as we have no ships to transport them. Perhaps after Lord Manderly ferries his men up the White Knife he might send ships down to retrieve our friends.” She hesitated then before continuing. 

“I have some troubling news from Kings Landing as well, sent from our good Varys the Spider on Dragonstone. Your victory on the Field of Fire was successful in destroying the majority of the Lannister’s grain and food supply headed to the capital. However the entirety of Highgarden’s treasury including gold and precious gems was secured inside Kings Landing before your arrival. Varys has said Cersei means to pay back the entirety of the great debt the Iron Throne has with the Iron Bank of Braavos, after which she means to take out another loan to purchase a contract with the Golden Company.”

“The Golden Company?” Daenerys hand clenched the glass cup tightly. “The company of sellswords so good at killing they have never broken a contract?”

“The very same your grace.” Her advisor stared down at her hands and finally took a sip from her cup. “They number more than ten thousand infantry, cavalry, and war elephants.”

“War elephants?” Jon raised an eyebrow.

Tyrion nodded. “Yes they use them to transport cargo and to lay siege to a city. The animals are even strong enough to pull down city walls with enough numbers. My dear Missandei and how does my sweet sister propose to bring over an army of that size across the narrow sea? She has no ships.”

Missandei wrung her hands. “She does my lord, Euron Greyjoy commands an impressive fleet and Cersei has already sent him to cross the sea with it in its entirety, so confident is she that she will succeed in securing the sellsword army.”

“Jorah Mormont fought for the Golden Company in his youth did he not?” Daenerys tried to recall any other details she knew about the infamous army of mercenaries. Viserys loved to scare her with tales of the bloody victories won by them in her youth. He had told her they were the largest and most disciplined private army the Free Cities of Essos had to offer and carried a golden banner with no other adornments. Her brother dreamed of hiring them to help him take back the Iron Throne. 

Once in Illyrio Mopatis’ villa in Pentos he had even gathered the captains of the Golden Company and treated them to an elaborate feast; sponsored by their host of course. Viserys had hoped to convince them to sign a contract detailing payment after the war was won, but they only laughed at him. They did not risk life and limb for merely a piece of parchment.

“How much gold do we have?” The queen asked her lord hand.

He shook his head. “Not enough to hire them if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Jon had listened carefully to all of this. “What if Lord Manderly gave us a loan to do so?” 

Tyrion thought for a moment. “The man certainly has enough, White Harbor makes a killing through trade and taxes from every ship that enters its waters. However, he’d never lend us such an amount for free my northern friend. Any guess as to what he might request in return?” He asked rhetorically.

“To marry one of his daughters.” Jon sighed.

Daenerys crossed her arms. “Where else might we procure enough gold?”

Tyrion steepled his fingers. “None of the options are good I’m afraid. Your Dothraki could pillage the countryside on the way to Winterfell gathering all the valuables they can find.” 

Daenerys narrowed her eyes. Absurd.

“You could send Jorah Mormont to treat with them, maybe they’ll join our cause out of the kindness of their hearts?” He said sarcastically.

“More likely, we could offer something of value to Euron Greyjoy. Without his ships even with a contract the Golden Company cannot cross the narrow sea and join Cersei. Don’t we have his nephew Theon Greyjoy; the only possible claimant to the seastone chair of the Iron Islands somewhere on Dragonstone? I recall his simpering face wandering about the halls not too long ago.”

Jon’s hand fisted, angry at the proposition. “We’re not going to give him Theon Greyjoy. Don’t you think the man has suffered enough?”

Tyrion shrugged. “No need to get upset, just laying out all of our options; as terrible as they may be.”

“We may not have enough to hire the Golden Company, but perhaps we have enough gold to hire a faceless man of Braavos?” Missandei flushed as the others stared at her in surprise.

“Hiring an assassin my my who would have thought sweet Missandei of Naath capable of such a thought. Aren’t the people of Naath known as the Peaceful People?” Tyrion tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair grinning.

“I was stolen from my village when I was a little girl, though it is my home I think the pacifistic nature of my countrymen are too optimistic in this world. Other men are so cruel and terrible and mine will not even defend themselves. Slaving raids are common on the island, how many children are ripped from their beds every full moon? Perhaps if we fought the slavers fewer would be taken. My travels and the world of man has taught me this. So I say to you, what is the death of one man compared to the death and suffering of thousands should the sellswords arrive at our shores?” She defended herself. 

Daenerys placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Your words are true and it is a clever plan. However the faceless men are no ordinary assassins. They may well charge an exorbitant price in gold for the contract, or they may ask for another more bizarre form of payment. The more notable or important the victim, the more difficult the task to reach them, the more treacherous for their order, the higher the price they will ask. We shall see, for now I do think this the best course of action. I will think on who we might send to treat with them in Braavos. It must be someone we trust. Is there anything else we need discuss or may I speak with Jon Snow alone?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something your grace?” Tyrion asked her smirking all the while. The queen raised an eyebrow in response.

“There’s the small matter of planning your wedding. Yes we will keep your nuptials a secret at first, but we need not wait long. The dead won’t wait and it would be best to have the ceremony sooner rather than later to accustom the lords and ladies of Westeros to the union. With your leave, it would be my honor to make all the arrangements provided the timing is correct.”

Daenerys nodded, the corner of her lips upturned only just. “Very well Lord Tyrion.” She looked to Jon who smiled faintly in her direction.

With that her advisors retreated from the room, leaving her alone with the King in the North as she wished. 

She stood in front of him as he looked up at her from his seat curiously. “Much and more has happened since we met Jon Snow. What do you make of it?” Daenerys sat on the arm of his chair, their knees brushing against each other. 

“I am glad for it has given me a chance to meet you.” He smiled charmingly, his hand resting on her knee more familiar than she thought he would be. He was so frigid and timid at times, she likened it to his being a northerner or perhaps his time spent at the Wall with only other men for company. “I have something for you.” He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a pale blue winter rose.

“Where did you get this?” She took it from his hand and raised it to her nose. It smelled cloyingly sweet. 

“It landed in my lap on the ride from the castle to the barge.” He grinned and her laughter filled the room. “It reminded me of you.”

She slid into his lap then, a mischievous look in her eyes. His face flushed as her closeness. “Oh is that so?”

“It is resilient and beautiful even in the bitter cold of winter. Where the other flowers die or burn from the frost, these only thrive.” The queen smiled genuinely as she fingered the velvety petals, she laid it gently on the table. She turned back to Jon and brushed her lips softly on his face and lips as his eyes closed contentedly. 

“Do you mean to make it so that I fall in love with you Jon Snow?” She whispered softly, her fingers running through his hair as he exhaled in pleasure. “Our river voyage has just started and there are fewer eyes here than at New Castle. When might we be together again?” She murmured in his ear. Daenerys felt his hands clench at her waist. She so enjoyed teasing him. 

Jon stared at her with heated eyes and exhaled as she placed gentle kisses along his neck. He smelled woodsy and fresh, a wild masculine scent that excited her greatly. She pulled at the clasps of his jerkin, but he stilled her hands.

“Wait, my queen.” His eyes were soft. “I don’t want another fumbling encounter with you where we’re rushing half clothed and looking anxiously to the door for fear of interruption. I want to see you completely. I haven’t gotten the chance to look at you.” 

She caressed his cheek and felt her heart flutter in her chest. It was hard to believe at times that this man who was so gentle and sweet was the same commander of the Night’s Watch and the battle hardened man who had taken back Winterfell from the Boltons. 

She stood then and slipped out of his hands, walking to the wooden door across the room and placing her hand on the brass handle.

“Where are you going?” He asked her perplexed.

The queen pushed the door slightly to ensure it was shut and latched it to lock it in place. “Nowhere.” She said as she walked back to stand in front of him and pulled him to his feet.

Daenerys blushed slightly as she stepped back from him. “We will not be interrupted here, and should anyone suspect us of indecent behavior then their suspicions will only be confirmed when we wed.” She took his hands in hers and placed them on her waist. “Or do you not want me Jon Snow?”

He laughed then. “That will never be the case my queen.” And thumbed the silk of her dress over her hip. This dress was made from the same spool of fabric as the other, but had interesting cut outs at her sides and chest with black fur lining the edges of the bell sleeves. He traced the exposed skin near her waist and she breathed in sharply, looking up to meet his eyes.

“How am I supposed to get you out of this?” He mumbled in her ear as he searched for ties to unknot or pull. Her eyes twinkled. 

“I think I’d like you to puzzle this one out first.” She sighed. His hands warmed her through her clothes as he felt along her body freely. Sliding his hands to her hips and then her back and waist. He pressed her flush to his chest and she felt how much this excited him. His length already hard and large against her stomach. As he searched she felt him as well, slipping her hands up the back of his shirt and leather armor to feel his skin and the muscles of his back. 

“What if I ripped this from you instead?” He asked only half in jest as he grew frustrated. He felt laces at her back, but not ends on which to pull and no other buttons or clasps to unhook. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Her hands froze and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Then tell me or I can’t answer for my actions. I’m not that patient Daenerys and I’m not terribly good at puzzles.”

“Here.” She took one of his hands and placed it inside her dress at the cutout. Just inside was one end of laces which he pulled, loosening the top of her dress enough that she held it up with one arm. “You’ve seen more of me than I have you your grace.” Her violet eyes turned stormy. “Undress for me?”

“As my queen commands.” He unclasped the belts of his leather armor and it fell to the floor with a thump. Then he pulled his white long sleeved linen shirt over his head as she watched entranced.

She let her dress fall to the floor then and she stood naked in front of him with only her braid covering one exposed breast. She heard his sharp intake of breath and reached for his breeches, pulling the laces and exposing him to her eyes. The queen kissed him then, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts against his chest. She wished he would take her then, she was so excited.

His hands sought the soft skin of her arse and squeezed, pressing her tightly against his erection as they explored each other’s mouths. She felt him trembling and knew that he desired her as much as she him. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything half as lovely as you Daenerys Stormborn.” He whispered into her ear and then picked her up effortlessly, wrapping her legs around himself and carrying her over in front of the hearth. He laid her down there amongst the carpets and plush throw pillows and sat up to admire her as she looked up at him with half lidded eyes. “Your hair, I wish you wore it loose for me.” He stroked the length of her braid and kissed her mouth and neck before looking down at her body again in admiration

She felt self-conscious as he took her in, but she made no attempt to cover herself. She did not know if the fire in the hearth or her skin was hotter. 

She pulled him down to take her mouth again and wrapped one of her legs around his waist, pushing him against where she wanted him most and drawing sounds of pleasure from them both. Was it always going to be like this? If it was, then after they married they were never like to leave their bed chamber again.

“Is this slow enough Jon Snow? I am not as patient as you.” Daenerys slipped her hand down and grasped him, thrilled at how hard he felt in her hand, she guided him to her opening and rubbed him against her wetness, drawing heavy breaths from her lover. Without answering her he held her hips still and then thrust deep inside her in one motion. She cried out, back arching as her silken sleeve squeezed his length. 

“Do you know how many times in a day I think about you like this Daenerys?” He whispered into her ear, pulling back and thrusting into her slowly and then again shallowly until only the head of him remained. His breathed heavily as he composed himself, taking one of the queen’s nipples into his hot, wet mouth. The queen could not speak she was so overwhelmed; she only closed her eyes and bucked her hips wantonly to bury him inside her as far as he would allow.

He entered her again, filling her and stretching her as she scratched the delicate fabric of the carpets at beside her head. She sighed and begged him with her eyes to continue. She felt him groan against her chest as she rocked her hips up, burying him deeper inside her. 

“Oh I’m going to...” She began, her breath catching as his hands slid between them and rubbed against the bundle of nerves above her opening. The queen climaxed, moaning and beside herself as a scream of pleasure was torn from her lips. Jon covered her lips with his as he drove himself inside her over and over again, finally groaning and gasping for air, undone by the wet heat squeezing his length as he felt her orgasm around him. 

Daenerys lay there under him, her eyes closed and her heart beating out of her chest. She could feel his heart beating as erratically as hers. After a time he found her lips and kissed her breathless again, wrapping his arms around her body as the sweat cooled from their skin.

 

\---

 

They arrived at Winterfell late into the evening, but far sooner than they had anticipated. Lord Manderly spoke truthfully, the White Knife was fast moving indeed. Jon was eager to disembark and with good reason. He had shared with her a raven’s scroll given to him by the aging maester of House Manderly the evening prior. It came from his sister Sansa Stark and he said it was the best news he had ever received via raven.

It was true; messages carried by ravens were often unpleasant. Dark wings dark words indeed. Daenerys was glad for her handsome king when he told her the news. Sansa wrote that Jon’s brother Brandon Stark was alive as well as his other sister Arya. They all awaited him at Winterfell. _Come soon, there’s much to tell you._ It said.

“It has been many years since there were so many Starks in Winterfell.” Jon said as they rode side by side, passing through the first retaining wall that made up the defense of the castle. Ahead they reached the stables and two portly stableboys took the reins from their hands. The rest of their party followed close behind. 

Here the snows were deep and piled high atop the ramparts. Daenerys glanced at her King in the North as he greeted the guards making their rounds of the courtyard. Snow had gathered in his hair and even in the dark with only the glow of the lanterns she could make out his kind eyes and fair face. She would never tire of looking upon him.

She hoped that his family would approve of their betrothal, but she could not help but worry. 

They walked under the second portcullis and the queen observed him from a few paces behind as he froze in place, no doubt recognizing the figure holding a dimly lit lantern under an archway. He ran to her, uncaring of the other eyes watching or if it was unseemly for a king to do so. Daenerys heard a woman’s laugh as the lantern fell into the snow and the two hugged fiercely. 

Daenerys stopped at a distance to give them space, he had confessed to her on the barge that he had thought his sister dead. How thrilled he appeared as he recalled his sister fondly and regaled her with the adventures they would all have as children when their family was still unbroken and whole. The young woman ahead fit the description of Arya Stark closely. She had mousy brown hair and was short of stature with a round face and almond shaped eyes just as he had described. Interestingly she wore clothes more suited to a man, the queen noted.

Arya placed her hand on the hilt of her sword and pulled it from its sheath. “Look Jon, I still have it!” She said loud enough for them all to hear and Jon laughed saying something in response that made his sister cross her arms over her chest and smile from ear to ear.

The young woman gestured to them all standing and waiting and Jon had the courtesy to look abashed. Perhaps he had forgotten they were here. The queen held back a smile. It would have been nice for her to have grown up with a large family. Viserys and she were great friends when they were young and innocent, she still did not know what happened to change him so much. 

Jon gestured for them to approach and made quick introductions. Arya stared at her longest of all, but the queen stared right back unintimidated.

“Everyone else is already in bed, and Sansa has been awake since dawn preparing for your arrival. We expected you around midday tomorrow after your reply from White Harbor. She’s fast asleep in father’s old room. She’s moved all her things in there.” Arya glanced at her brother.

“And Bran? How is he?” Jon did not much seem to care where his other sister was sleeping or where she kept her things, Daenerys observed.

His sister shrugged. “He’s alright, but he’s different from when we were children. You’ll have to speak with him to understand. He’s asked to speak to you as soon as you are able, but with it being so late shall I tell him you’ll find him come morning?”

He nodded, taking a sideways look at his traveling companions. They were all exhausted to be sure, and she had not slept well since Dragonstone.

Servants came then to escort them to different areas of the castle and Arya bid them goodnight and retreated to her chamber. Jon, Missandei, Tyrion, and she were led to what was surely the guest wing. Daenerys found it curious that her handsome northerner did not occupy the rooms of the lord of the castle, but appreciated the proximity of his rooms to hers. 

She sat in front of a trestle table on which stood an ornate looking glass, forcing her eyes to stay open for just a few moments longer.

“Tomorrow is a big day my queen. You always look lovely, but tomorrow you must look especially radiant." Missandei undid the complicated braid that rested heavily on her shoulder and combed it out with her fingers. "Are you happy about your marriage to our northern ally?" She picked up a horsehair brush and began to brush the queens silver hair working her way from her head down to the ends patiently.

“I am.” Daenerys smiled softly. “He's different from any man I've ever known.”

“I believe your grace makes him happy also.” Her hand stilled for a moment in her hair as she thought. “He is very handsome.” 

“Yes he is.” She blushed pink and they both laughed. 

“Are you looking forward to seeing Grey Worm in the next couple weeks?” The queen grinned at the shy expression on her friends face as she nodded.

Her friend set the brush down, finished and divided the length of her hair so that it framed the queen’s face and rested on her chest.

Missandei yawned and covered her mouth with a graceful hand. “It has been a long day, I'll awake you come morning to help you dress your grace, goodnight.” She bowed slightly, exiting and shutting the door quietly behind her. 

Daenerys massaged her scalp with the tips of her fingers, rubbing away the soreness left from the heavy braid she wore. She blew out the candles inside the lanterns scattered about the room and laid down bonelessly atop the furs of her bed. The flickering light of the fire began to lull her to sleep and heated the room comfortably.

As she began to drift into slumber she heard an impatient knock at her door. Drowsily she opened her eyes, confused. 

Again she heard it. 

_Is it Jon Snow perhaps?_ She stood and walked towards the door somewhat wearily wearing only a sheer nightdress that she received long ago as a gift in Qarth from Xaro Xhoan Daxos; a rich merchant who had once asked for her hand in exchange for ships to cross the narrow sea.

Daenerys opened the door gingerly, startled to find not Jon Snow, but a face she had not seen since Meereen.

Daario Naharis leaned against the wall in the hallway leading to her room with the arrogant swagger he had always possessed. He stood there handsome and bearded, exactly as she had last seen him save for a travelling cloak at his shoulders and back. 

“My queen, it has been long since I've seen your face.” He drummed on the stone wall as he admired her state of undress.

Her face paled and suddenly all drowsiness left her. She felt very much awake. “I thought you were someone else.” She hid her body behind the door stunned and tried to come up with words, but her mind failed her. Daenerys had never expected to see him again, let alone on this continent or in this castle.

“Who else might you receive at your door in the dead of night wearing such a thing? You’ve turned me into a jealous man.” He caressed the lewd golden figure of the naked woman carved into the hilt of his dagger.

“How did you know where to find me and why are you here? I bid you stay in Essos and help protect Slaver’s Bay from the masters that wished to enslave its people.” She hissed, looking out into the darkness of the hallway. 

_What if someone sees him at my door at this hour?_

She did not know what would be worse, if one of the Lords she had not yet met saw a strange man enter her chamber in the middle of the night and thought her a loose woman or if she closed the door in his face and did not hear him speak. Perhaps he had something of import to tell her. He had been her close friend and lover once upon a time, she felt she owed him this at least.

“Come in before anyone sees you.” She crossed her arms over her chest protectively to hide her breasts from his gaze. Her nightdress was thin and even with the hearth ablaze the room was cold, hardening her nipples into stiff peaks and making her feel somewhat self-conscious. 

He walked in leisurely as he looked around at her accommodations before settling his gaze on her person. “Everyone seems to be either going south to King's Landing or north to this stronghold. You're a queen with the largest army in Westeros your grace and I was a captain of the Second Sons and Stormcrows and friend to your Dothraki and Unsullied. I’ve heard they too make for this city. It was not hard to assume their queen would arrive here as well.” 

“Heard from whom?” Her eyes narrowed as she saw him lay back on her bed and stretch, placing his arms crossed behind his head tranquilly and staring at her from the corner of his eye. 

He ignored her question. “I could not stay away from you forever Daenerys, you cannot send me away and hope to forget me nor I you. After being with a queen, all other women pale in comparison. What point is there in other conquests when I’ve already conquered the most beautiful woman in the known world? Don't worry about Slaver’s Bay, my men still hold it and keep the masters on the defensive even now. I would not betray you in this way.”

Daenerys clenched her hands into fists, angry and impatient. She tried to let her judgment overcome her anger, but the indignation overwhelmed her and she snapped. “What do you want of me Daario Naharis? It is late and I am weary from travel.”

He looked at her with a wicked gleam in his eye, unbothered by her tone. “I want you of course Daenerys Targaryen.”

“If that is why you are here then you mistake me sir. You cannot have me, leave this city at once and forget I existed.” She glared. “Take your sellswords from Dragonstone and go if you wish. I will charter you ships to take you to retrieve the men there and a bag of gold for your journey to the free cities sufficient to buy you a villa of your choosing. Fill it with as many whores as may please you, but leave and do not come back.” She commanded, outraged at the man she once considered her trusted confidante and friend, her ire growing.

He shook his head. “I’ve not come all this way for nothing my queen. Come, join me and I'll warm you on this night. Have you forgotten all of our passionate nights in the great pyramid of Meereen? I remember them all very fondly.”

“Get out. Now.” She demanded, furious and flustered. She felt such an overwhelming sense of anger and fury that it surprised her in part. The feeling was so intense she found it hard to breathe.

He did not budge from her bed. “I'll admit when you first sent me away as you would kick a dog to the streets I was heartbroken, but now I've only grown bitter. Bitter and resentful. Is it true that you travel now with Sir Jorah Mormont? You sent him away, yet he returned to your service. Why have you forgotten me then?”

"I do not care what you feel or think and do not have to explain my actions to you. If you do not get out now I will scream for my guards and have you hanged come morning as a common thief in the night." Her anger turned into frustration. He was giving her a headache. Or perhaps she was so fatigued it had begun to manifest into these symptoms. She certainly felt overly irritable.

He laughed at her impetuously. “You only grow more radiant the angrier you become sweet queen. Your Dothraki guard remember me well from our nightly rituals across the narrow sea. They have already been sent away as I used to do then.”

She gasped in disbelief. Were her guard truly so foolish? “If you think I will not scream and wake this entire castle then you do not know me. I am a queen, not a common whore for you to bed as you please. How dare you come here and disrespect me so?”

“I mean no discourtesy Daenerys, I ask only for a place at your court again and one night in your bed. You will not regret it, if you are not pleased with me then I will only serve as one of your guards and captains as I once did. I desire only to be near you.”

“Daario I cannot do this. Do you not understand rejection? I am betrothed to the King in the North and I do not want you. It is truly best that you leave. I cared for you once, it is for that reason I will allow you to walk away even now.” She did not recognize this man anymore. He had changed. 

"But you are not married yet. Will you make me beg sweet queen?” He stood and unclipped the dagger at his hips, dropping it carelessly on the floor followed by his traveling cloak and a leather riding vest. His hands pulled at the ties of his tunic, loosening it.

Her heart stopped. “Are you truly so foolish as to do this? Do you wish for death? I will not betray my husband to be. I do not want you. Take your things and go and I promise I will forget this. Take my offer, buy yourself a villa in Lys or Tyrosh and forget me.” It was now that she realized he was not like to be convinced. 

She searched the room for anything she might use to defend herself if need be, but saw only an iron candlestick holder behind the tall, dark haired man. Sir Jorah had given her a small knife once as a gift, but it lay useless at the bottom of her chest. She clenched her fists.

"Very well I suppose it comes to this then. I've not come all this way without getting what I've come here for. Give me my one night and a place by your side or I will tell your betrothed and all of his household and bannermen that Daenerys Targaryen is as barren as the red waste of Essos and cannot produce an heir. I will spread the tale to anyone who will hear it.” He sneered.

“I've known you intimately many times and you have told me in confidence this fact. I know it to be true. But should anyone question the veracity of my statements I will explain in detail every characteristic of your nude body to anyone who will listen.” He derided her. “I’ll tell them of the dusky rose of your nipples, the beauty mark of your inner thigh, the faded scar on your lower stomach from where your brother threatened you with a dagger and cut into your pretty skin. I remember it all your grace, do not doubt it."

He pulled his tunic up and over his head and walked shirtless to a flagon of wine on a desk across her room, pouring himself and her a drink. She stood immobile, frozen and momentarily without words as she observed him. 

“And if I run from this room and have you beheaded this very night?” She spoke stoically.

“You cannot." He tilted his glass in her direction. “Should I find my head missing from my body then the Second Sons and Stormcrows will leave you and join Cersei Lannister against you. I hear she has quite a bit of gold to offer for sellswords to join her campaign. In addition men loyal to me await in this castle. I did not travel to Westeros alone. It would not be difficult for them to steal your sweet Naathi advisor from her bed in the night along with the imp that councils you. Mayhaps they might take one of the king's sisters as well to ensure no harm befalls them as they escape to Dragonstone.” He shrugged. “I've had many lonely nights to think and consider the possibilities.”

“You would force yourself on me? You disgust me. I would have had you torn limb from limb and burned your bones to ash had I known you would betray me.”

He smiled wickedly. “I assure you, there will be no need to force you my queen. Go and lay back. Close your eyes and imagine your king if you wish. You will enjoy me as you have all of the times before. I never heard complaints fall from your lips in all of the times we were together.”

Daenerys heart thudded in her chest, she began to feel panic rising steadily as she considered what she could do. She found it hard to think, there was something strange she felt in this moment in the pit of her stomach. Her mood swung wildly as she weighed her options.

She could seduce him and then cut his throat with his dagger when his guard was down or bludgeon him to death with the candlestick holder, the dragon queen was not afraid to give the gift of death to such a man. 

_But if his words were true?_

She did not care so much for the threat against her reputation, but the Second Sons numbered at least two thousand and the Stormcrows five hundred. Would they truly abandon her for her enemy and take up arms against her? Most pressingly, were there really men in Jon’s own castle who could so easily reach her advisors and friends? Apart from her personal guard, there were all manner of men-at-arms from across the north and the vale patrolling Winterfell. It did not seem likely, yet if he stood here in her private quarters then why could others not do the same?

 _Would it truly be so easy?_ She was afraid to find out. She wished she could ask for Jon’s advice or Tyrion’s. Tyrion would know what to do. Her head felt like it was about to burst. She rubbed at her temples, feeling a plethora of emotions all at once. 

She needed him gone. She needed to think. She needed to rest.

“Daario... it appears you have left me no choice, but to do as you ask.” She raised her eyes to make contact with his. He looked smug and overly pleased with himself. He downed the glass of wine in one go and approached her to hand her the one he had poured for her.

Her anger and frustration had bled into weariness and anxiety. 

“Do not look so displeased dear queen.” He stood, moving closer to her than she felt comfortable with and caressing her hip. Her hands clenched reflexively and she felt her nails digging into the palm of her hand. Where before his touches excited her now she only felt repulsed and ill.

She let him believe he had won for now. The queen felt she could not breathe, so nauseous and ill did she feel. Even the flickering candlelight hurt her eyes. But this sickness was not a result of his threats, this was something else.

“Here drink. This will ease you.” He mistook her illness for apprehension. 

She took the offered glass and stared inside at its contents, exhaling. “I will give you your one night Daario Naharis. I will make you a lord, sit you on my small council, and grant you a holdfast.” She looked up at him, hiding her discomfort. “But I have journeyed all day and the hour is late. I was already dreaming when your knock came at my door. Come tomorrow night. You will have what you wish. It will be a night you will never forget.” She dropped her arms by her sides, uncaring now if he saw her or not. 

She visibly tensed as he stroked one breast softly and thumbed a budding nipple through the fabric. The room spun and she felt sickened, but allowed him this to sell her deception.

“Very well.” He murmured. “The anticipation will make it all the sweeter.”

 _I will see you die Daario Naharis, and that will be sweet indeed._ She turned her face from him. 

His hands explored her body at his leisure and she resisted the urge to slap him hard across the face. Had she not felt so unwell and maintained the rage she felt only moments ago, she was certain to be unable to resist doing so. 

She wished for a moment her dragons were still small enough to share a room with her so they would set him aflame and protect her from this vile man she once thought a friend. She felt a wave of depression suddenly as she realized that she could no longer recognize him. She had never expected this betrayal. The extent of emotion that shook her was so strong it made her head throb. She felt strange. 

“I'll go sweetling, I know you are tired, but you must give me a kiss to tie me over until tomorrow. Make me believe it.” Before she could protest he had pulled her to him tightly, trapping her hands against his bare chest. The glass cup fell from her hand, but did not shatter. It rolled along the carpets, staining them red with wine. She froze and struggled for a moment before reminding herself that she still held some semblance of control here and she just wished him gone. 

He tasted of tobacco and rum, and she was surprised to feel tears prick at her eyes, but bid they not fall. She trembled partly in disgust as she forced herself to respond timidly and partly from the strange affliction she felt.

He ground his length against her stomach and she pushed him back as though burned, but he only grinned at her. It was then she felt fear. An intense overwhelming fear that set her heart racing strangely. She did not recognize herself.

_What if he doesn't leave? And what is happening to me?_

He groped her once more, pressing himself against her and inhaling deeply at the crook of her neck. He pinched her buttocks enough to hurt her as she stood immobile, sure she would faint if she moved. She watched him shakily as he stepped back to pick up her fallen glass. He poured himself another cup and threw it back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Daario picked up his clothes then and did not bother dressing, sauntering his way to her door as she stood fixed in place. He was not ashamed of his state of undress.

“See you in the morning Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Seven of the Kingdoms.” He smiled at her charmingly and shut the door, innocent to her feelings and illness.

She felt such a sense of relief at his departure that her tears fell then unbidden. She slid down the door, doubled over in pain as she felt a cramping low in her belly, her head aching and chills running down her spine. She felt violated, but she had lived through worse than this. This is not why she cried now, truthfully she did not understand her tears or why they flowed so freely down her face.

When she was first sold to the Dothraki it was much worse, and before then she had also survived her brother Viserys. He had drank heavily of their host’s wine and had almost taken her against her will one night in Pentos. When he drank it always raised his blood for killing or his lust for one of his whores. Were it not for Illyrio’s guards he would have taken what he wanted from her without care.

But even then she did not cry as she did now. 

After her tears had dried and she breathed normally again she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them there on the cold stone floor. What manner of sickness was this? She stared at the flames inside the fireplace as they danced and soothed her shaken nerves. Daario would die for his foolishness, that she knew. But there was something strange inside her now. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach. She was felt hysterical, overly emotional, and unusual and she knew not why. After a time when the room finally stilled she rose and dove under the fur covers of her bed, curled upon her side and facing the door. She did not sleep the rest of the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot about this ending note area, posted a comment before I remembered. I'll copy/paste here.
> 
> Well I'll admit, did not quite expect such a response here. As I was reading through the reviews after work I started thinking: How odd, I expected some criticism, but in one day to receive so much was really rather impressive. Then I saw some of the comments that quoted the chapter and it clicked.
> 
> That is not the latest version of chapter 4. I mean... you may well hate it just as much, but atleast I intended it that way.
> 
> Shit. Sorry friends, that was on me. RIP my inbox.


	5. The Setting Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read chapter 4 within 24 hours of my posting last week you did not read the latest version. Biggest difference is in the last third, might be worth a second look or this chapter might cause some confusion. Sorry about that friends, took a bit before I caught it.
> 
> As always all comments and kudos are appreciated! Thanks for reading!

 

 

The queen did not sleep the entire night though she desired to desperately. First hot, then cold, then hot again, after which she could not breathe. When she gasped for air a sharp pain in her abdomen made her vision blur it was so intense. A deep sense of foreboding clutched her heart as her sickness worsened by the hour. She could not think and Daenerys wondered weakly if she was going mad, but still she stubbornly refused to call for help for fear of appearing weak. 

At sunrise just as she had reached her breaking point the pain finally began to fade, and slowly the muscles she had held tense for hours relaxed. If she had been fatigued before now she was exhausted completely. As she lay there on her side watching the sun through the foggy panes of glass across from her, she felt regret. Regret and anger at herself for letting Daario catch her off guard so and not having him killed then and there. Had she all her senses then and this strange sickness not weakened her she would have had him killed. She should have had him followed, but it had not even occurred to her until now. 

She sighed wearily.

The higher the sun rose the better she began to feel until all that remained of her strange illness was a dull ache low in her stomach. Though she feared rising she finally did so, limbs shaking minutely as she used an iron bed post to brace herself. She dressed slowly, afraid the affliction would return again but tired of laying abed doing nothing. 

Missandei was surprised when she entered the Queen's chambers and found Daenerys already dressed and looking out through a window at the courtyard below.

“Your grace, I did not think you awake at this hour.” Her eyes were wide as she clutched a small silver tray with a pot of mint tea, a soft-boiled egg, and hot bread with a pat of butter. 

The queen turned to look at her tiredly. “I did not sleep in all the night my friend. Are Lord Tyrion and Jon Snow awake? I must speak with you all urgently.”

Missandei looked at her inquisitively. “Has something happened?”

“It has.” She crossed one arm over her chest and exhaled.

“His grace left his room at dawn, but Lord Tyrion is still dressing. I will call for him.” Missandei rushed from the room, leaving the tray on the desk with the looking glass. Daenerys felt disappointed, she had hoped to speak with Jon especially before he was caught up in the day’s duties, but she was not surprised. 

The queen was worried now that she could think clearly. She could not help but suspect there was more to the situation with Daario than had initially occurred to her. It was just too convenient, too contrived for him to appear here in Westeros, let alone in Winterfell and at her door. She tried to come up with a logical motivation but could not. 

_Tyrion has a better mind for this than I._ Daenerys poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it, letting it warm her throat.

Her violet eyes narrowed. She did not know why or how he was here, but she knew he was a fool. Only a man with a death wish would betray and disrespect her so. His arrogance had always reminded her of her brother. In Meereen she had found it charming, but now she found it irritating and insulting. Viserys had died for his pretension and so would he. 

Daenerys could not help but worry too for the strange illness that afflicted her in the night. She wondered perhaps if it might be best she swallow her pride and see a maester. 

“My queen? Is everything alright?” Tyrion interrupted her thoughts as he walked in. He was still straightening the sleeve of the shirt under the leather vest he wore.

Missandei closed the door and clasped her hands at her front, concerned. 

“Last night while the castle slept I was assaulted by a man. Here in my private quarters.” She spoke. Tyrion's lips parted in surprise, but she continued before he could speak. “It was Daario Naharis, our old ally and friend from Essos.”

“I don't understand, what did he do to you? Where were your guard?”

She sighed. “He dared ask for a night in my bed and a place at court. When I refused him he threatened to expose my infertility to all of the occupants of this castle. He even threatened to have you both taken by men loyal to him supposedly lurking here and turn the Second Sons and Stormcrows against me. He claimed he would go to Cersei and join her side.”

Daenerys clutched her head. “I felt there was something unwell with me not long after he appeared. I do not know if it was pure coincidence, but I could not think clearly. Perhaps it was the journey that made me so fatigued or the illness, but all I felt was weak. I could not think of what to do other than delay him. He put his disgusting hands upon my person and if I moved I would surely collapse so unsteady I felt.” She dropped her arm. “I wanted him gone quickly before he sensed anything amiss so I told him I would give him what he wanted if he only left me to sleep and returned tonight.”

Tyrion was stunned. “What an absolute idiot. Does he think molesting you will win your heart? We should have him flogged naked in the streets.” He snorted. “Furthermore his actions make little sense. What I truly don’t understand your grace is what happened to your guard, how did he get past them? There were a few out down your hallway when I went to bed.”

The queen covered her face with a hand. “This is where I am left most confused. Perhaps you can help shed some light on the answer Lord Tyrion. In Meereen when he would come visit me in my chambers he would whistle a bird’s call at my guards and they would know to put distance between us to give us privacy. He visited me often. They recognized him surely as you know I keep them close then and now, especially in this land I do not know. They could have remembered him and thought it right, but I find it odd even now. Surely I would have been asked if someone wished to see me, especially at that hour. Stranger still, Kovorro is quite distrustful of men other than his fellow Dothraki, I do not believe he would so easily let him by even if he did remember him.”

She shook her head. “I've tried to justify it, thinking oh it was not so long ago when we were still across the narrow sea in the great pyramid, and everyone knew of our relationship then as I made little attempt to keep it secret. Yet it still confuses me. If they thought it strange to see him here they did not think it for long because there he stood at my door.” Daenerys looked at her advisors’ faces and knew they felt as confused as she.

“Your grace when I walked down the halls from the kitchens to wake you I noticed that there was no one posted at your door and none of our men where the main hall of this wing turns left into yours. There were only men-at-arms which we did not bring with us. Jon’s men perhaps?” 

Daenerys was surprised. “And my guard then? They’re missing? Did you see yours or Tyrion’s?” 

Missandei fiddled with the belt at her waist nervously. “Yes my queen, I bid mine good morning when I left my room and I saw Tyrion’s just now when I went to fetch him. It is only your hall and door left unguarded though knights and other armed men have been patrolling, but they are not ours.”

“How many of your personal guard were supposed to be there?” Tyrion asked.

“Mine numbered only three, and they've been with me since Khal Drogo. They’ve always been by my side. One is blind in one eye and scarred, another carries an arahk with mother of pearl at the hilt; taken from a man who meant to kill me, and the last had bells woven in his beard. One for every battle he has won he would say. All have the Dothraki look.”

“Have you seen them since?”

"I have not left this room yet today Lord Tyrion.”

Tyrion thumbed at his chin, pensive. “I should very much like to speak with them, have no doubt I'll find them at once. Tell me, when Daario was at your door did he force his way in?”

“He knocked at my door and truthfully I thought him our northern ally. Or hoped rather.” She had the grace to look ashamed as her face flushed. “When I saw it was him I was stunned and my mind was foggy from sleep then shortly after I began to feel unwell. I invited him in for fear someone might see him out in the halls at my door in the middle of the night and out of respect for the friendship and confidence we once shared. It was a mistake.”

“We're only human your grace, but who would dare suggest anything improper about you? You're a queen and you can do as you please.”

She sighed, irritated at herself. “Yes I know.”

“Do not worry. I will get to the bottom of this, it is most curious. He could not have entered the castle proper without the help of one of its residents. I will find whoever that may be and look for the sellsword and these alleged friends of his.”

“It had occurred to me that perhaps Daario was sent by someone else. Someone who means to make me look weak in front of Jon Snow or his bannermen? Or perhaps they mean to distract me?” Daenerys swirled what remained of her tea and looked down at the contents. “I truly do not know.” She looked to Missandei. “Before it slips my mind, please send a raven to Lord Varys in Dragonstone. I need him here. This is precisely why kings have a Master of Whispers. I'll fly there myself to fetch him if I must.”

“Certainly your grace.” 

Tyrion studied her for a moment until she raised an eyebrow at him. “Queen Daenerys, while this happened where were your dragons? Did they not feel their mother in danger?”

She shook her head. “I did not call for them. What could they have done? Burned this castle to the ground and crushed the walls to rubble with all of us inside or melted the castle towers as Aegon’s dragon once did to Harrenhall? Perhaps landed on the battlements and scared all of the smallfolk and residents to death? No. I had the sense at least to know that would have been unwise.”

“Understandable. Now another question and this might draw your ire so please forgive me in advance.” He cleared his throat and straightened his vest with both hands. “Have you ever considered learning how to fight your grace? Meaning no offense, had that man wished to do more than what he did last night you would likely not have been able to overcome his strength with only your bare hands, let alone feeling sickly.” 

He furrowed his brow. “And on the field of battle if your dragons are otherwise occupied or disabled what would you do then? I know it is not a pleasant thought, but it is too great a risk to have you depend solely on others for your protection. I know you do not fear taking a life, but in a way you lack the knowledge to do so without your armies or your dragons.” He raised his hands up defensively as her eyes narrowed. 

“I know I know, but one of the duties of being a Hand is to advise, so here I am advising. Take this horrible event as a small lesson. Let us find someone to teach you to defend yourself.”

It was true. She would not admit it to Tyrion Lannister, but that thought had too crossed her mind, especially last night when she felt so vulnerable and unwell. Had Daario wished to take her against her will he had all of the advantage and she had none. Perhaps she could have killed him with his own dagger if it came to that, but it would have been dangerous.

Knowing how to wield a sword or dagger properly would perhaps have made her a better match against him, and he would never believe her capable of such.

“Very well Lord Tyrion.” She crossed her arms. “Aegon the Conqueror had two wives; while Rhaenys preferred using her dragon Meraxes as her weapon, Visenya flew on dragonback and wielded the Valyrian steel blade Dark Sister. If she was able to do both, then why not I?” 

“It pleases me to hear that your grace.” Missandei smiled gently and took her cold hand between her warm ones. "This man Daario, he was a captain of the Second Sons, but he is still a common sellsword. No one would believe him over the word of Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the King in the North’s bride to be.” She squeezed her hand. “Do not worry for me, let his friends come and try to take me from my bed as you say. After I was taken as a child by slavers I made a promise to myself that I would never be taken against my will a second time. I will double the guard on our wing and speak to the remaining Dothraki and men-at-arms alike. That man will not come near you again lest you allow it. I am truly sorry I was not here for you then.” 

“Dear friend, it is no one’s fault but mine and that man’s. I am lucky to have you both here for me now to council me. I am fallible and were it not for you both I would find myself lost.” The queen drew a hand through her unbrushed hair.

“One more thing before I go your grace, do not worry about the Second Sons and Stormcrows. If they really are as fickle as the wind and abandon our cause they will live to regret it. When they see our side winning they will turn again, mark my words. I hate sellswords for this very reason. They're unloyal creatures at heart with little honor and humility.” He sighed. "Oh and I do think you should share this information with Jon Snow at least in part, a lord and king should know the goings on of his castle.” He turned to make his leave.

“Lord Tyrion, should you find the sellsword bring him to me. I wish to see his face one last time.” He nodded curtly and exited the room.

"Come my queen let us fix your hair and brighten your face. Your eyes look tired." Missandei drew her to the seat in front of the looking glass. It was true; she had not looked at herself this morning until now. She looked terrible.

The matter of Daario confused and angered her greatly. To arrive before they did he must have already been in Westeros for a number of days. Why had he not come to Dragonstone to find her if what he wanted was true? Why here? She did not understand.

Her Naathi friend set to work, brushing her silver-gold hair of the tangles made from tossing and turning in the night. She brushed it until it shown and began to braid it intricately. The queen closed her eyes, bidding thoughts of that man away. He was a man of no importance and she was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Come what may, whether the Second Sons and Stormcrows turned their cloaks or not, Jon would support her.

When her braids and wavy hair flowed down her back neatly once more, she felt Missandei's deft fingers pinning small silver adornments in her hair to keep the strands in place. 

She was grateful to be among people she trusted, they lent her strength when she was weak and cleared her mind when it was foggy. She briefly considered sharing with Missandei more about the strange sickness that she felt in the night but decided against it. Daenerys need not worry her and with each passing minute she was feeling more herself.

Missandei broke the silence after a time. “The sellsword’s threat to smear your reputation reminded me your grace, if you don't mind my asking... other than you not falling pregnant and being told you were barren, how do you know it to be true? Could it not be the case that your lovers were the ones infertile?”

The queen shook her head. If only it were so.

“Unfortunately it is not that alone. Since my first and only pregnancy I have never bled again. It's as if my body is incapable of it now. I do not know why.” She remembered the death of her husband and the memory of their son. It hurt her even now. She would remember the words of the _maegi_ who cursed her as long as she lived.

 _Only death can pay for life_ , it was though it happened millennia ago. The memories served as a reminder, a lesson as Tyrion had just said. A terrible lesson that a naïve girl needed to learn.

“I am sorry your grace, it is terrible of that man to have threatened to make public such an intimate thing.”

Daenerys tilted her head in acknowledgment, willing the memories away. Compared to all that she had faced, Daario Naharis was nothing. “We will find him and he will die for his foolishness. He must have gone mad to attempt such a bold thing here.”

When Missandei was finished she looked at the queen in the reflection, one hand at her chin and the other at her hip. “We must do something for your eyes your grace. I will send for some chilled tea leaves to press upon them. Perhaps you could lay down and rest until I return?”

The queen smiled appreciatively. “Thank you dear friend.”

Missandei squeezed her shoulder and left her to her thoughts. Once she was gone Daenerys stood, feeling nothing amiss in her body. The night prior seemed more a disturbing dream than reality. 

She walked to the trestle table, eying the flagon of wine where it sat almost empty. She reached for the rose that Jon had gifted her beside it, smelling it and holding it carefully in a pale hand.

This was not the way she had imagined her first night in Winterfell, but she would take each day as it came. Each obstacle as a lesson.

 

\---

 

It was still morning and already Jon felt tired. The first thing he had done when he awoke was to find his sister Sansa. She had embraced him fiercely and then quickly overwhelmed him with a flurry of information about Winterfell and the North. She told him of the granaries, the snows, the shipment of dragonglass he sent from Dragonstone before venturing beyond the wall, and all else that had occurred in his absence. It gave him a headache. 

The situation was even more dire than he had feared. Sansa had done the best she could given the circumstances and for that he was proud. She reminded him of the late Lady Stark; though she was never kind to him, he could not deny that she kept Winterfell in order and ruled justly.

More people from the countryside were coming through the gates every day and he already did not have enough food stored to ever hope to feed them all through the winter. The Maesters of the Citadel had called the past summer the longest in a generation and after a long summer always came an even longer winter.

He walked past the blacksmith’s forge and saw dragonglass sitting in great piles on wooden carts outside as the snows gathered atop them. There were few skilled tradesmen left in the city. Most had gone south with his brother Robb or elsewhere to flee from the war. There were but two remaining and with thousands of obsidian weapons to forge and sets of armor to repair or make, they could not do it all. 

Then there was the matter of fortifying the castle walls. They had not been kept up with in years likely not since before his father had been named King Robert's Hand of the King. 

He tried not to think of what might happen should the dead arrive now with the castle and its occupants in this state. He needed builders, blacksmiths, and soldiers, but he lacked the men and Manderly's and the queens were still too far afield. Jon knew that the longer they waited the worse their odds would be. 

He exhaled sullenly and climbed the steps to the hall of the lord's wing in the castle. The guards there nodded at him and let him through. He was in search of his brother Bran when he felt a tug at his cloak, Jon turned with a start to find his sister Arya standing behind a corner with a cheshire grin on her face.

“Did I startle you?”

“Hardly. Do you often lurk behind corners in hopes of catching someone off guard?”

She shrugged. “I was only waiting for you.” 

He crossed his arms. “What for? I'm looking for Bran, have you seen him?”

“Bran is in the solar, but before you go I wanted to tell you. I saw something last night. I thought you might like to hear it." She stood with her feet shoulder width apart and her hands at her back, eyebrow raised. Arya was different now, that much he could tell at once though he had not yet had an opportunity to speak with her at length. He promised himself he would find time to catch up with her within the next day or so.

“Well what is it?” He stared at her curiously.

“It's about the dragon queen. I saw her with a man in the middle of the night.”

Jon dropped his arms at his sides. “Daenerys? What do you mean?”

“I often make the rounds of the castle at nightfall and was walking through the main hall of the guest wing. I heard voices so I got closer and listened. I saw her dressed for bed and a strange man at her door. They spoke in hushed tones for a time, I could not hear the words, but she bid him enter.”

“That doesn't mean anything, she's a queen and she can do as she likes.” He sighed.

“No Jon I’m not finished. I waited there awhile curious, and I saw him leave her room naked from the waist up and holding his clothes in his hands.”

Jon groaned. He didn’t have time for this. “That's absurd, I don't believe it.”

“I know what I saw. A man left her room at a late hour, stupid smug face and all. Why would the queen have a man leaving in that state of undress?” Arya glared.

Jon ran a hand through his hair frustrated. He had what felt like a thousand things to do today and hearing ridiculous stories about Daenerys sleeping with another man was not on the list of things he wanted to hear. “I don't think the queen would invite a random man to her chamber in the night to take her pleasure of him. She's not that type of woman.”

“You don’t think so or you wouldn’t like to imagine so?” She frowned. “I don't trust her. She's not from here, not even from Westeros in fact.”

“She was born on Dragonstone, she's as Westerosi as you or I.” He rolled his eyes. “Besides you spent some time across the narrow sea too from what I’ve heard.”

“That's different. I'm your sister and would never do you harm.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He drew a hand down his face. “Listen, the reason I think you could not have possibly seen what you claim is because the queen and I are betrothed. I know her. I care for her. She would not harm me.”

Arya's lips parted in surprise as she stared at him speechless. “I didn’t know that.”

“And pretend you still don't, we are waiting for the right time to share the news with the other lords.” He hadn’t even begun to consider that particular scenario, though he was looking forward to it. Keeping from touching her or looking at her in public for longer than considered appropriate only made him itch to do it all the more. With so many eyes here it was only a matter of time before they were seen.

“Jon, I don't know what relationship you have with the dragon queen and honestly it’s weird to see you so infatuated, but trust me as your sister. I would not lie about this, especially not to you. I saw a bearded man with dark brown hair and blue eyes turn onto the main hallway of the guest wing from the queen's own chamber. He was nude from the waist up and holding a dagger with a golden hilt. Ask her then to explain him.”

“I will.” He promised. “What are you doing sneaking about the castle at all hours of the night anyway?" He stared at her suspiciously. 

She grinned. "Like I said, I just like to make the rounds.”

“Right, I'm sure that's it.” The corner of his lips tilted upwards. She bowed mockingly and turned on her heel, leaving him with her words ringing in his ears.

He would not jump to conclusions. Call him thick headed, but her tale was so ludicrous it almost made him laugh. After Bran he would speak to the queen and see for himself. Besides, if she had been with another man would he be in the right to be upset? They had never spoken of exclusivity though he thought with their union eminent that would be obvious wouldn't it?

He frowned. 

Jon continued down the length of the hallway he had known since he was a boy. He passed a waiting room, the old bedroom the girls shared as children, and at the end leading to the lord’s chamber was the solar. It had a great oak desk in the middle of the room, and he half expected to see his father sitting behind it just as he’d last seen him the day before they both left Winterfell. 

Instead he opened the door and saw his brother Brandon staring into the flames of the hearth in front of the desk, a blanket draped over his legs where he sat.

“Jon.” Bran greeted him and when his brother looked up he found his eyes empty and strange.

“Bran, it is good to see you.” He clasped his brother on the shoulder, feeling how frail and thin he was through his clothes.

“Have you seen Sam?” The young man asked.

“Who?”

“Your friend, the large maester in training.”

Jon stared at him, puzzled. “Samwell Tarly? No, I haven't seen him in months. Last I heard from him they were making him clean chamber pots at the Citadel in Oldtown.”

“He's here in Winterfell, he came to see you. It is alright, we don't need him precisely now.”

Jon kneeled to better look into his brother’s eyes. He stared at him wearily. "We don't need him for what? Where have you been all this time? You're practically skin and bones and pale as parchment.”

“I've been learning. I went beyond the wall to meet the Three Eyed Raven. You might know him as Sir Brynden Rivers, but the queen knows him as Bloodraven. It makes no matter, he is gone now. He is only a voice in my consciousness. I have become him and he is me.”

He looked at him cautiously. “What are you going on about Bran? I’ve heard of a Sir Brynden Rivers. He was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch once, but disappeared while ranging beyond the wall almost 50 years ago.”

“Yes the very same, except when I met him he was no longer a man. He was more and now so am I. It is hard to explain.”

Jon looked at him apprehensively. His brother did not look well. His face was gaunt and white with large dark circles under his eyes. He had an unhealthy air about him.

Bran turned back to look into the fire. “You are not Jon Snow bastard of Eddard Stark and a nameless woman. I know who you are Jon.”

He clenched his fist. “What do you mean? What do you know?”

“Eddard Stark was not your father, but you are a Stark. Your mother was my aunt Lyanna.” Bran looked at him again. “And your father was the crown prince. You’re the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.” He spoke seriously, but Jon thought him speaking in jest. 

“Surely you’re joking. Who told you such a ridiculous thing?” Jon frowned. Had his brother lost his mind beyond the wall? It had happened to harder, more experienced men, rangers even so why not him?

“I am the Three Eyed Raven. I know this and more.”

“I thought Sir Brynden was the Three Eyed Raven. What does that mean Bran?” He was growing frustrated.

“He is no more Jon.” Bran seemed to look right through him. “A raven sees with two eyes, but I see with three. I have seen all of the past and can see all of the present as it happens. It is important that you listen to me.”

“So you’re some type of greenseer?” He stared at him dubiously.

“Much more than that.”

Jon shook his head, disbelieving. “Visions can be false Bran; I cannot be what you say. It makes no sense. I will call you a maester.”

“How else could you have ridden Rhaegal?” Bran only stared unblinkingly as Jon sat speechless. 

“How could y-”

“You know you were born in Dorne, father told you as much. You've heard the stories about how Rhaegar stole my aunt Lyanna and trapped her in a tower in the Red Mountains of Dorne where she died. Except she wasn't stolen, she went willingly. They were in love. So much so that the prince had his first marriage to Elia Martell annulled by the High Septon and married Lyanna Stark here at Winterfell in a secret ceremony under the godswood. I saw it, I was there.”

“You were there.”

“Yes and when Lyanna died she died giving birth to you on a bed of blood. My father and Lord Howland Reed fought with the kingsguard at the foot of the tower whilst Prince Rhaegar went to fight King Robert on the trident. When he found her she told him everything and made him promise to protect you and keep you away from Robert Baratheon, fearing he'd kill you for being the son of the man who stole the woman he loved.”

“I don't know what to say.” Jon found it difficult to breathe.

“You're the real heir to the iron throne Jon. Your blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, the son of the man who would have been king after Aerys. As the son of the heir-apparent, your claim is better than even Daenerys Targaryen’s.”

He paled. “Then what does that make her? Assuming I believe the tale then her brother is my father.”

“That makes her your aunt.”

He felt lightheaded. He sat on the floor and covered his face with one hand. “I don't believe it Bran. I can't believe such a thing.”

“You cannot abandon the wedding. You must marry her.”

“How could I after what you've just told me? How could I marry my... I can’t.” 

“You must.” Bran’s eyes grew hard. “Don’t you understand how important you both are Jon? Yours and hers is the song of ice and fire. Rhaegar Targaryen wasn’t always known for his prowess on the field. In his youth he was bookish and private, but something he read motivated him to become a great warrior. A prophesy about you and Daenerys Targaryen. This very same fable eventually led him to his death, but he did not die for naught. He died so that you may live. You see Rhaegar had two children already with Elia Martell, but he needed a third. He needed you. The dragon has three heads Jon, not two. Do you see?”

His head began to ache. “No Bran I don't. Prove to me that what you say is true. What will happen in the future?”

“I cannot see ahead only the past and present, but I'll give you proof if you wish.” Bran did not speak for a moment as a faraway look entered his eyes and he recalled. “When you left for the wall Father told you at the crossroads when you saw him for the last time that the next time you saw each other he would tell you about your mother. I saw too the arrow that flew into Ygritte’s chest and her die in your arms. I saw Daenerys Targaryen arrive beyond the wall to save you and a dragon speared through the chest in a burst of blood. I saw you bend the knee. I saw them cheer you at White Harbor as many cheered for Rhaegar Targaryen not so long ago.”

Bran stared past him. “Many will die Jon, you and she are the only ones capable of saving us from the long night. If you want to take your place as the son and trueborn heir of Rhaegar Targaryen and sit beside the dragon queen as King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm then you must take that title seriously. Protect the realm. It was what you are here for. Protect it together.”

Jon could hardly find any words to speak as his eyes studied Bran. “How can I convince the queen of all that you have said?”

“You will tell her that only death pays for life.” 

That confused him. He rose to his feet unsteadily. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to. The queen will. There is another thing I need tell you Jon. There are rats in this castle. Turncloaks and liars. Be on your guard even here where once we felt so safe.”

He shook his head. “This was always your home more than mine Bran, tell me. Who lies?” 

“There is little time and I am tired. We will discuss it another time. Daenerys needs you, go to her.”

Jon stood in place, confounded. When he did not make to leave Bran spoke again. “Go to her now Jon, she waits for you in her chamber holding the blue winter rose. Those were your mother’s favorite.” His expression became far away again.

An endless stream of questions wanted to burst from his mouth, but he forced himself to leave and make his way towards the far wing of the castle. 

_Am I mad?_ He covered his face with his hand.

If what Bran said was true about his origin then that made the queen a relative. This was a nightmare. Never not even dreaming could he have imagined this. If Daenerys Targaryen truly was his aunt, why was he so attracted to her? Shouldn’t his body have... known? He sighed somberly.

 _Should I see her as I see my sister Sansa?_ The thought alone made him feel ill.

No, he would never be able to see the queen as he saw the members of his family. The thought of being with Sansa as he had been with the queen made him nauseous and uncomfortable. He’d grown up as children with the Starks. They had always been his family. 

Daenerys was his lover.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. To find out after so many years that he was of noble birth, and not just the son of any man, but the crown prince was staggering. It was absurd then that the one woman he desired was a blood relative. They were the last two living Targaryens. It was too much. The gods really were cruel and unjust. 

As he approached her door he felt his heart like to burst from his chest. He remembered Arya’s words, but compared to what he’d learned from Bran it seemed a foolish thing. He stood there and a full minute passed until he finally found the courage to knock. When she bid him enter looking as lovely as ever he had no words to speak. 

He noted the rose in her hand, just as his brother said. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It really was true. All of it.

“Jon I have been waiting to speak with you. Something has happened in the night and I bid you lend me your ear.” She shut the door behind her and sighed. 

“I think what I have to tell you may shock you more than what you’re like to tell me.” He laughed anxiously, running his hand through his hair and turning his face away, unable to look at her without thinking about how intimate they had been. He had slept with his father’s sister and he didn’t even feel guilty about it. He _enjoyed_ it. If she propositioned him even now, he’d likely sleep with her again. His face burned in embarrassment. 

_What kind of man am I?_

The queen only observed him, violet eyes turning curious as she sensed something off about him. 

“Daenerys, you speak first. I insist.” He sat on her bed, elbows resting on his knees and head in his hands.

“What bothers you so Jon Snow?” She sat beside him and laid a delicate hand on his arm. Where she touched him he felt the same spark as he had always felt.

“I’ll tell you after I think on how to properly say it.” He sighed. "Tell me what has happened with you and I will listen, then I’ll have my turn.”

“Very well.” She hesitated. And so she told him, everything in as explicit detail as she could remember including her strange symptoms of illness and all that her advisors had spoken earlier in the morning. 

He felt like he’d been punched in the chest. He grew angry. “Why didn’t you come to me? He would not have survived the night.” Jon felt a rage so fierce he forgot momentarily all that Bran told him. He would kill that man as he killed Janos Slynt, without regret. The brazenness of the entire event took him aback. “That man should never have been allowed into the castle. All of the doors and breezeways are well guarded my queen. Someone must have let him in.”

His fists clenched tightly and the queen nodded, abashed. “I should have come to you, or screamed for the guards you are right. I might have attempted to kill him myself were I not so afflicted. I don’t know what came over me Jon. My head ached and I felt such pain in my body I could not think. The room was spinning.”

“Are you still feeling any ill effects?” He took in slow breaths to calm his temper. He was both relieved that Arya was mistaken, and furious to find out the truth. Nowhere was safe, Bran had warned him.

Daenerys sat beside him, her thigh leaning against his as she thought. “No, it’s as if nothing ever happened. I don’t understand it.” She looked up at him and he noticed then how pale she looked. “I’m so tired. I wish I could sleep now with you guarding my door.” She smiled at him ambivalently and his breath caught as it always did.

The queen laid back on her bed then and closed her eyes, exhaling. He admired her silently, pleased at how comfortable she was now around him to let her guard down so. 

“Maester Wolkin should see to you, we’ve been traveling for days. Perhaps it’s taken a toll.” He reached for her hand forwardly, clasping it gently. 

She shook her head. “I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention. I feel fine now, just exhausted. I want only for it to be night and the day’s activities over.” 

_If only._ He too was tired. 

“Sleep with me then.” He almost choked at the sly smile that spread over her face as she opened her eyes to look at him. “I mean beside me.” He cleared his throat. “My chamber is not far from yours, I’ll post men I trust on the hall this evening and they will look the other way. No one will know where the queen slept the night prior. It might be the safest place for you your grace.”

“Oh yes, no doubt.” Her eyes glittered. “Are you trying to take advantage of me Jon Snow?” She lay on her side, her hand propping her head up.

He remembered Bran’s revelation again and felt strange. He thought he might feel differently about her when he saw her in person after learning about his parentage, but he felt the same. In fact he felt absolutely no hesitation or guilt in the least.

 _Am I entirely morally bankrupt?_ He thought wistfully.

“Perhaps.” He answered her, returning her smile tentatively. “After court is done, go and rest then make an appearance at the feast and slip away quietly. I’ll invent some tale to tell them.”

“I have all of my things in this room, so I will rest here until you retire. Come knock on my door and we’ll go together to your bed. Sleeping beside you would be pleasant Jon Snow, I’ll be thinking about it the rest of the day I’m certain.” Her cheeks reddened some and he was enamored. 

He was sure to think about it as well. 

“What do you think of Lord Tyrion’s suggestion for me to learn how to fight? I’ll have to borrow some of your sister’s trousers. I can’t very well practice in this can I?” She gestured to her long fitted dress.

“I should very much like to see you dressed like that. I’m certain I’ll enjoy it.” 

She laughed. “I won’t let anyone save for my teacher see me. I don’t know the first thing about sword fighting.”

“First lesson, stick them with the pointy end.” Jon grinned, remembering how he teased Arya the same way the day he gave her needle. Perhaps he would give Daenerys a blade for a wedding gift. He could see Sansa’s face already, horrorstruck at such a seemingly unromantic gift. His sister had always been fond of tradition and lords did not give their ladies weapons the day of their wedding. 

It might be worth the extra trouble just to see the look on Sansa’s face.

“I _have_ seen a sword used before your grace.” She raised an eyebrow, feigning anger, but her eyes betrayed her amusement.

He caressed her exposed shoulder and trailed his fingers down her arm. Something about being alone with her made him bold; he did not used to be this way. “What if I was your teacher?”

“You can’t be, there’s too much to do here for you to waste your time on such a thing.” She looked at him surprised.

“I would consider teaching Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name to be quite important. Certainly not a waste of time. Either way you need to teach me to fly on dragonback, there is no one else who can help me with that so then let us teach each other. An hour or two a day will not undo Winterfell. Sansa runs it well besides.”

“You just want to see me in trousers.” Her eyes twinkled.

 _I’d rather see you out of them._ He thought. “We don’t have long before we should begin making our way down to the great hall.” He said instead, face flushing slightly. 

“Come lay down beside me, the lords wait for you, not you for them.” She pulled his hand and he listened to her, resting on his back with her hand on his abdomen and her head on his shoulder. If this continued where he hoped it would they would arrive very late to court.

“I don’t believe you’d have recognized me a few years ago.” She began, her fingers outlining the stitching of the leather on his chest. “I was often dirty and sweaty from riding in the tall grass in the Dothraki Sea. I wore a painted leather vest over my bare breasts and trousers made of horsehair. They have a different sense of sin or shame there than you or I Jon Snow. They believe anything of import must be done under open sky and outside of confining walls and roofs, so naturally the consummation of a marriage is done under the stars.” 

“Then maybe that’s how we should consummate ours.”

“It might be a little cold for that in the north Jon Snow.” The corner of her mouth tilted upwards.

“I wish I knew you then. I wonder how things would have been.” Jon said wistfully. It was hard to imagine this queen who he always saw so well put together and proper in such a different world. The queen kissed him softly on his neck and he knew if he did not stop her then they may never reach court at all. “I would have never lasted as a man of the night’s watch. I’d have broken my oath the first day I saw you.”

She stilled and rose to look down at him. Her silver hair cascaded down and tickled his cheek. “You should say that to me again when we have more time alone your grace.” Then she kissed him, laying atop him fully. The last thing he wanted to do was leave now or stop her, but he had delayed long enough.

When they parted his head was hazy. “Daenerys I have to tell you now what I have discovered, before we leave the privacy of these rooms.” Her lips stilled from traveling down his neck and he almost bid her continue but knew this could not wait.

“I had forgotten, forgive me. Tell me now.” She slid back to her side and supported her head with one hand while the other rested on his arm.

_How am I going to do this?_

He drew a hand down his face. “I met with my brother Bran earlier today. I found him changed. He has visions... like a greenseer except it is though he can see moments in time at will. He can see events as they unfolded in the past. I know how this sounds, but bear with me. I’m trying to find the words to explain it. He told me he saw something in one such vision that had to do with me.”

“I have seen many bizarre and magical things that most would consider nonsense. Do not worry, tell me.”

Encouraged, he continued. “He saw Lord Eddard Stark, young and armored outside a stone tower in Dorne, the day he found Lyanna Stark. Bran claims to have seen what occurred there that day. When Ned Stark saw Lyanna she told him she had gone with Rhaegar of her own volition. That they loved each other and wed in secret. Lyanna gave birth to a child there, a son of Rhaegar’s.” He hesitated then, searching for the words.

Daenerys sat up with her violet eyes wide. “You’re here to tell me this child lives and I have to fight my own nephew’s claim for the iron throne? Jon any child born of my brother has a better claim than I. Has he been found?” She furrowed her brow.

Jon sighed.

“Daenerys I know this will sound absurd, but it’s me. Bran said it was me.” He sat up away from her, unwilling to see her reaction.

“You’re playing with me.” She said.

“I’m afraid I am not.” He stood, his back to her. “I would not invent this. I would not even be able to imagine it.”

“Jon I don’t believe this. I can’t. It’s ridiculous. Surely you realize this. Visions can be false. Rhaegar had only two children and both are long dead now.”

“Bran called himself the Three Eyed Raven that he learned this from a man known as Brynden Rivers or Bloodraven.” He covered his face with hand. “I don’t know I’m just as confused as you.”

“Lord Bloodraven? He was a bastard from the union of Aegon IV Targaryen and one of his mistresses. I believe he was legitimized, even rose so highly as to be Hand of the King.” There was silence for a moment.

The queen paced. “This man, he was allegedly a powerful sorcerer with a vast network of spies superior even to my Lord Varys’. I remember this all because my brother Viserys loved the stories about him. He always had a penchant for the violent ones. He hoped to frighten me with them. He would ask me a riddle; how many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have?” The queen sighed. “A thousand eyes and one. I heard it so many times.”

“Perhaps it is the same man, I do not know. Bran gave me proof; he mentioned things that no one could have known. Verbatim even. He told me this is why I was able to ride your dragon, the one whose namesake is my father.”

The queen walked around and stood facing him. “And what of my proof? I do not mean to call you or yours a liar Jon Snow, but I need more. One need not be the son of the crown prince to ride a dragon, there were many riders once. Not all of them were blood of my blood.”

“He told me to tell you something, but I do not understand the meaning. Only death can pay for life.” He said. 

He watched the queen grow pale as her lips parted in surprise. “What did you say? Where did you get that?” Her eyes were wild as she searched his face for an answer.

“Bran told me to say that to you if you doubted my words. He said you would know what it meant. What is it?” He stepped towards her to place a hand on her arm, but she stepped from him. Her eyes were cold and distant.

“Let us go Jon Snow, court awaits us.” She turned her back to him and stood there frozen a moment thinking. “I believe you; I only... need some time to make sense of it.” Then she opened the door and walked out, leaving him alone and confused.

 

\----

 

Those were the last words she thought she’d ever hear spoken again. Daenerys walked in a daze, knowing the way only from the directions given to her by one of her advisors the night prior. If she got lost so be it.

 _How is it possible?_ Had she not seen him mount Rhaegal or heard the witch’s words spill from his mouth she would still doubt it. She felt the hair stand on the back of her neck and a chill travel down her spine. 

She had said it to him herself after his ride on Rhaegal; their meeting was more than coincidence. More than fate and this only proved it. 

_He is the son of my brother, a man I never met, but wish I had._ She put her hands inside her sleeves to warm them, they had gone cold the instant she heard him say _only death can pay for life._

If there was one thing Daenerys could change in all her life, she would choose never to spare the life of that murderess maegi. Then perhaps Khal Drogo would not have died and she would not have paid for his resurrection with her unborn son’s life. It was a cruel thing to see him alive once more yet not truly there. Drogo breathed, but all life was gone from his eyes. 

The witch had warned her, _only death can pay for life_ , but naïve as she was then she did not understand. She would unknowingly sacrifice the life of her son and her ability to bear future children, forever. This was her only true regret and it could never be undone.

If Jon knew what she had done, perhaps he would see then that she did not deserve him. That he was wrong and she was not as good as he was. She prayed he’d never find out.

 _Gods forgive me._ Daenerys exhaled.

It was then she began to hear the voices of the many lords and ladies who had gathered in the hall. She bid her mind clear, put on her face for court and breathed deeply. Two Stark men with wolves emblazoned on their chests pushed open the doors inwardly, and the wave of sound crested over her. Daenerys flattened the creases of her dress before she walked in, her back straight and her eyes forward. The doors closed behind her with a groan.

The volume of chatter dropped as she walked. She aimed for the table at the front where there were two seats left untaken in the middle. Sansa and Brandon Stark sat to the right, and Missandei and Tyrion to the left. The queen noted Arya stood leaning against the wall near the stony faced guards only as a casual observer. Behind her the doors opened and closed again and voices greeted the King in the North.

Tyrion pulled out a chair for her and Jon sat beside her only moments after, though she felt his gaze she did not look at him. 

It was then the room exploded; a cacophony of shouting and questions that melded together indistinguishably. She saw mostly northmen but spotted a smattering of lords from the Vale; recognizable with their silvery blue plate and more colorful vestments. The northerners wore varying shades of black, gray, or brown with each man more bearded then the last. There were also other men with coloring she did not recognize, presumably from elsewhere in Westeros though they were few in number. Most were sitting, but some stood along the walls.

Jon stood and the room quieted. He placed his palms on the table and leaned on them, speaking loudly. “My lords and ladies, I know many of you have travelled far to be here. Know Winterfell values your loyalty and will do all it can to aide you and yours come true winter. These are perilous times and perhaps it is the northerner in me, but I will speak bluntly.” 

“Beside me sits Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, True Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. I will not lie to you all. I have bent the knee.” She noticed the scowls in the audience immediately. 

“In exchange Daenerys will lend us her army for the war to come. She has also graciously allowed us to mine and extract dragonglass from her ancestral seat of Dragonstone which we will use to make weapons against the dead men that come for us.”

A man stepped forward with three ravens painted on a pale, blue chest piece. His hairline was receding and he had a petulant look upon his hawkish face. “Pardon me your grace, but is it not true Winterfell’s food stores are insufficient to feed the current numbers inside the city? How do you propose we feed the queen’s sizeable army, our own men, and the rest of the travelers that come North seeking shelter?”

“Lord Corbray, we are aware of the situation and will address it, but the fact of the matter is that we may not even survive long enough to starve to death without the queen’s army. Our numbers are too few without hers to ever hope to defeat the army of the dead.” Jon spoke seriously. 

“My sister Sansa has informed me she has requested wagons of storable food to be brought from each and every one of your keeps. You will continue to do this, sending full wagons here and empty ones back for as long as the roads allow us. Until we arrive at a better solution or find a plentiful source of food this is what we can do."

The lords whispered among themselves and Daenerys caught the eye of one of them. He had dark brown hair that greyed at the sides and an immaculately groomed beard. His eyes studied her and she stared back at him unwaveringly. Finally he turned his head, breaking eye contact and leaving her the victor.

"It is important you not only send your provisions here but also your citizens. Winterfell is the best defensive point in hundreds of leagues, but we need more men. I bid you call on your own bannermen and all those in your domain. Every man and woman capable of holding a knife is needed here. Make no mistake, the long night is coming and if we hope to stop them we must have others join us."

Lord Corbray spoke again, unable to stay silent. “Winterfell is no safer than the Eyrie. Why should I risk my own safety and wellbeing here in this drafty castle waiting to starve to death? The Eyrie is impregnable; would we not be safer there?” He looked around at the other lords of the vale, seeking support. “Indeed I should take my men and head back home now before the snows make travel impossible.”

Daenerys spoke. “My lord, you are correct. The Eyrie is famously impregnable, but you forget a curious exception. During Aegon’s conquest Queen Visenya flew Vhagar to the heart of your Eyrie, and it was this how the Vale submitted their crowns to my ancestor and joined the other kingdoms.”

The man sputtered. “A-are you threatening me? Do you mean to come atop your dragon and have us bend the knee?”

Men could be so dramatic. She resisted the urge to sigh. “Not yet a threat Lord Corbray, no. My point is the Eyrie is not as isolated as you may believe. The night king does not have a dragon, but what if the tales are true and ice spiders as big as dogs come to take you in the night? We know very little about these creatures, and I believe it unwise to underestimate them. Even the mountains of the moon and your impressive architecture might prove insufficient to stop them.”

Jon’s sister Sansa spoke next rather bitingly. “You know as well as I and the other Lords of the Vale that the highest and most defensible points of the castle are already impossible to get to now that winter is here. All the passes are treacherous. You could not get supplies taken there let alone men to guard it. There's a reason the Lords of the Eyrie move to the base of the mountain for winter. And there you would not have nearly the defenses of Winterfell.”

The man turned red for a time, embarrassed. 

Another man in blue enamel plate stepped forward, resting a hand on Lord Corbray’s shoulder. “You all speak as though the army of the dead were as real or you or I. Few have ever seen them and you ask no small thing of us with only your word as proof. I mean no disrespect, but it will be difficult to keep my men from their warm homes and wives with only fables of dead men and night kings to keep them.” 

Sounds of agreement came from around the room as other lords nodded and began clamoring for their turns to speak. The noise rising steadily.

“Enough!” Jon slammed the table in front of him with a fist and words died in men’s throats, leaving only silence. “We will settle all of this, but for now let’s put the matter of your incredulity to rest once and for all.” He looked to his traveling companions and waved two of them to stand in front of him so that all the occupants of the room could see. Sandor Clegane and Beric Dondarrian carried a large, wooden crate as they did in White Harbor. Jon nodded, looking not at them but out into the sea of the faces.

When the creature spilled out, its severed hand twitching separately from the body, the room exploded once more in a cacophony of sounds. Yelling and gasping, sounds of disgust, towards the back corner the queen heard retching sounds. It smelled of rot and decay. Some men and a tall blonde woman dressed as a knight drew their swords uncertainly.

One man, with the red hair and hardy complexion of the Umbers approached the creature with much less trepidation than he should have. He stroked his beard as he analyzed it closely. The creature shrieked and lunged for him, were it not for the shackles tying him to the crate he would have torn the man apart.

Before anyone could think to stop him the man drew a dagger from his hip and stabbed the creature deep in the gut, but it was ineffective much to the man's surprise and horror. Now within its reach the dead man pulled the living one down, clawing at his face and throat while people screamed watching but too fearful to help him.

“You fucking idiot.” The hound yanked hard, dragging the creature by the wrist and ankles back to the crate, kicking it roughly inside when it reached for him. No one moved to check on the fallen man, perhaps too horrified from what they had just witnessed. His face was a bloody mess; painful to look at, yet he still lived. His chest rose and fell with slow aching breaths. 

After a moment the man rose to his knees shaking, blood seeping from a claw that had caught him deeply under his eye causing tears of blood to fall down his cheek and drip onto the stone floors. He leaned on the table where Daenerys sat for stability.

Jon’s lips were parted, wishing to speak but unable to find words to say. 

The man wiped the blood from his mouth with his arm. His voice was troubled and afraid. “How can we hope to win against such an evil thing? What kind of creature takes a knife to the belly but is not stopped?” He was pale and breathing heavily. He touched the bloody paths at his neck gingerly from where the creature clawed him.

"With dragonglass, fire, and men we will stop them." Jon frowned. “Look no farther than your own garrisons and soldiers. Now you have seen the enemy, you know what we will face. So I bid you all send me your men, your women, all who are able to hold a dagger should be given one. Send to me any person with training however minimal in a skilled trade. We need armorers and men that can make weapons. We need men to fortify the castle walls and then even more to defend them."

The crate was removed from the room as Jon spoke, the creature inside banging and snarling, muffled through wooden walls. 

"Imagine that creature in an army of over one hundred thousand running at you hoping to tear you limb from limb and then use your dead body as another foot soldier in their army. Listen carefully my lords, if you and yours intend to survive the winter send ravens now bidding all that are able come here and lend a hand. If you think the dead men will stop if Winterfell should fall then you are mistaken. They will descend south with an army engorged with the newly fallen and continue bringing death to each and every keep from here until the Summer Sea below Dorne. They will kill us all until Westeros has no living man left to defend it."

Everyone hung on the king’s words. "We know that fire and dragonglass are effective against them as normal steel is not. Better even than that is Valyrian Steel, like your Lady Forlorn Lord Corbray. Had the knowledge to forge Valyrian steel not died in the Doom, we’d be better off." 

The man in question placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, nodding, sweat beading on his brow. "This sword has been in my family for hundreds of years. I would be honored to wield my Lady in your defense your grace." His tone had changed from the one he had first spoken with.

“Our defense. Yours and mine.” Jon replied, running a hand through his dark curly hair sighing deeply. “We need to come together to have any hope of surviving this. It’s for this reason I must say the following. Daenerys Targaryen has come to aide us when nearly all others have ignored us. She has risked life and limb to save me from certain death beyond the wall, set aside her quest to take back the seven kingdoms now, and lent us her armies so that we may survive. Cersei does not care about the north, but Queen Daenerys does and she is here.” He looked at her intensely then and she found herself unable to look away.

“And so I have knelt, but I am not the first Stark to do so. Torren Stark was known as the King who Knelt, but under their friendship the North prospered and there was a peace that lasted generations. I will have the same.” He broke away to look back at their audience. “If I should fall, do not doubt following Daenerys Targaryen. She is kind as she is beautiful, just and fierce as her dragons when need be. All of the tales of her success are true. It makes no matter, Essos or Westeros, with her the Seven Kingdoms can thrive as they once did.”

A northerner spoke, not unkindly. “It was not so long ago that another dragon sat on the iron throne, a man who burned those alive who he disagreed with. Tell me Queen Daenerys, is it true that you burnt alive Lord Randyll Tarly and his son Dickon Tarly? Turning their blood and flesh to ash?”

“Lord Randyll had a brilliant mind for strategy and command. I would have had him lead my armies had he allowed me so, but he refused to bend and I refused to bow. Make no mistake my lords I am kind to my friends but a danger to my enemies.” Daenerys said firmly.

Tyrion spoke, surprising her. “You forget Lord Glover that there was another dragon who should have been king after his father. I know there is little love for him here in the North, but Rhaegar Targaryen would have made a wonderful king. Before he set his eyes upon Lyanna Stark everywhere he went people cheered for him. He was gentle and kind, cunning and masterful. He knew the type of man his father was and tried numerous times to stop him.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Let us not forget the great tourney at Harrenhal that the prince used as a pretext to gather all the lords of Westeros in one place and plot against his own father. Some of you were there that day. You would have made him king, do not deny it. So let us follow his sister, she will bring Westeros peace at last as Rhaegar would have had he lived.”

Daenerys stood, speaking to the lords of the room. “Your king risked his own life so that you may bear witness to the creature you have seen, so that you may believe him. I flew myself on dragonback and saw the Night King with his white walker generals and their thousands upon thousands of dead men. We cannot hope to defeat them if we argue amongst ourselves now. There is so much more at stake.”

Lord Glover crossed his arms. “Meaning no offense your grace, Prince Rhaegar was a good man, and you are far too young to remember, but everyone knows the tale of what occurred that very same tourney. When he won the event he rode around the arena right past his own wife Elia Martell to lay a wreath of winter roses in Lady Lyanna's lap, crowning her the Queen of Love and Beauty. And that was the moment where he made a crucial mistake that eventually led to King Robert’s rebellion. A war that cost the North dearly. The north is tired, provided we survive the long night come again, I am weary of more war.”

The young Lyanna Mormont stood and the room quieted much to the dragon queen’s surprise. “Queen Daenerys is not her father or her brother, she went herself and saw the dead men and then chose to come help us. She did not run the other way as other men might have done. She has come to help the North while Cersei Lannister sits comfortably in the red keep, leaving us to our deaths. She is here and I trust the judgment of the King in the North. If he believes she is good for the realm and good for us then I trust in him. The North remembers our friends.”

Another man stepped forward, brown hair to his shoulders with bright grey eyes. “Lady Lyanna speaks truly. The North will not abandon an ally, a queen who can set aside so large a prize as the iron throne to come starve with us northerners is one I can follow.” He beat his fist over his heart and nodded, other men of the same mind hit their palms against their knees and voiced their agreement.

Lord Corbray clenched his fist. “I have seen now what awaits us, though I wish I had not. I will follow his grace, it is as Jon says, our only hope of defeating these white walkers and their dead brothers is to unite as one army, one force. We can have no disagreements amongst us. We are brothers now and the queen is gracious to aide us in our time of need.” 

He unsheathed Lady Forlorn and the light from the windows shown against the black ripples inside the dark gray metal. 

He bent down to one knee in front of them both, his hands clasped at the hilt. A massive ruby sparkled at the end of the sword’s pommel. “I pledge my men, lands, and sword to you. With this I make a promise I will keep until my death.”

“Hear hear!” The men shouted and soon they all rose to cheer; applauding and hitting their fists against the tables noisily. 

Daenerys felt relieved and took a sideways glance at the King in the North, noting the pleased look upon his face, and it was there in that moment she realized she did not care who his father was, she loved him and it made no matter he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. To her he was Jon Snow and that was more than enough. He was the king she wanted.

 

\--- 

 

 _Sunset is more beautiful in the winter._ She thought as she watched the sun’s slow descent below the horizon through the tower archway. Already the days grew shorter as the nights grew longer.

It was cold; Daenerys could see her breath, and though her cheeks grew numb from the chill she had not wanted to miss her first sunset at Winterfell.

 _The first of many,_ she hoped.

"Your grace?" 

She turned to find Tyrion Lannister with a grim expression on his face. The queen was tired of receiving bad news, and from the severity of his look, this one was sure to be unpleasant.

“We found your Dothraki guard, the three men you described to me this morning. Their throats were slit and their bodies were found by hounds underneath a snowy embankment near the tower that lies in ruins by the rookery.”

Her lips parted, stunned. “Have you spoken to Jon? How is it possible that this could happen here?” Her gloved hands clenched the edges of her cloak closed tightly, almost protectively.

He sighed and drew a hand down his face. “There is someone here who clearly is no friend to us. I have not seen Jon Snow. I came to you at once.”

“So it was Daario Naharis?” Her eyes narrowed, angry.

Her lord hand crossed his arms, clearly frustrated. “I do not know, but for him or anyone to wander about this castle they could not work alone. There are many lords staying here, and to me each is now more suspicious than the last. They come and go as they please each with their own guard, servants, and squires. If a lord came with his guard it is not as though his men would be questioned, this is not a prison and nobles are treated with respect.” He rubbed at his temples.

“Many of the men-at-arms you see guarding the entryways are men in their employ, brought here by one lord or another. You know that men loyal exclusively to Jon Snow and Winterfell are few as most Stark men died with Robb Stark at the red wedding. It is not too farfetched then to believe one of these lords allowed it so our sellsword friend could enter relatively easily in their company. With new people arriving every day; small folk, landed knights, and lords alike, Daario Naharis could have been escorted by anyone with a title. If he claimed to serve a lord as his retainer or personal guard who would dare accuse the lord he comes with of falsities?” He sighed. “This is far more puzzling than I first believed it to be.”

“I know this is not my castle and these are not my men, but we are guests here. Guests should be treated with respect, not murdered in the night.” The queen shook with fury. “I demand someone answer for the crimes against my guard. We cannot let such a thing go unpunished. Blood has been shed here, there is a traitor who means to incite me to violence, and I assure you Lord Tyrion they will get their wish. Find Daario Naharis, he does not look to me a man who would withstand torture well.”

Tyrion nodded curtly, frowning. “Unfortunately my queen there is also the matter of searching subtly. We could turn the entirety of this castle upside down if we wished, certainly our King in the North would allow it, but push too hard or accuse the wrong man and we risk alienating newfound allies. Men you will need later in the effort against Queen Cersei. As for the motivation perhaps they mean to cause you consternation or wish only to see what you might do. Men often like to play games. They might even suspect the marriage alliance; after all any man with eyes can see an unmarried queen and unmarried king coming together in a military alliance and come up with such an idea. They could hope that an old flame of yours like Daario would interfere or distract you from our sullen northern friend.”

Daenerys pursed her lips. “As though he could ever hope to hold a candle to the King in the North, I have no interest in that man now other than to set him afire.”

“When he is found I would seriously advise against doing so your grace. At least not publicly.” Tyrion looked at her haltingly. “Do you want to remind these people of the mad king? Perhaps they mean to make you angry, for anger blinds. Burning him alive for all of Winterfell to see would be a mistake.” 

She need not be reminded how often her family, madness, and violence were mentioned together. The queen sighed and willed herself calm. Tyrion had the right of this.

“Don't be fooled by what occurred midday at court my queen. We can trust no one but ourselves. We have no friends here and this situation with Daario weakens our position.”

“How so?” She asked, violet eyes narrow.

“We are the ones who do not know the rules of the game we play. Make no mistake, we are likely being observed. Studied to see what our next move on the cyvasse board may be. Is our path predictable or is it not? Will we move the elephant or the dragon?” Tyrion crossed his arms.

“The dragon.” She answered, arching an eyebrow.

“Not everything can or should be met with a brute show of force your grace. I bid you have patience, give me another day to see what I may find. You’d be surprised at the things men will say when only a dwarf sits in their presence. They do not see me as a threat, and that is my advantage against them.”

Daenerys exhaled and dropped her arms. “I suppose I understand Lord Tyrion.” She fingered the cuff of her sleeve. “Come then, we cannot stand in the shadows while the feast awaits below.” 

She took his hand and placed it at the crook of her elbow and together they descended the snowy steps and entered the corridor leading to the great hall. It was crammed full of tables, drink, food, and men. Few paid them any mind as they entered, too drunk or too enthralled in conversation to notice, and for that Daenerys was grateful.

Hearing the news of the death of her three guardsmen saddened her greatly; they had been with her for years and always protected her fiercely. They had died for her, and she would pay Daario back in kind. It relieved her in part to learn that it was not as the sellsword said; that her guard did not abandon her to let him pass at his leisure. That made her wonder then what else the man had lied about. Thinking about him only served to upset her further.

“Tyrion have you spoken to the other guards that were at the entrances that night? The men-at-arms?”

He nodded. “Some yes, all claim to have seen none and nothing as you would expect. It is difficult to separate the truth from the lies.”

“Which lords do they serve?”

“That therein lies the problem your grace. Some serve the Arryns from the Eyrie proper, or Lords Belmore, Corbray, Redfort, Royce or Waynwood. From the north we have Lord Cerwyn and his sons and their guard, a few from House Flint, the remnants of House Glover, Hornwood, Mormonts, Reeds, and more.” Daenerys was beginning to get a headache. “Then from the Riverlands I believe I’ve seen the crest of House Mallister, Mooton, and others, not to mention the wildlings. I suppose it could be one of them, but I find that unlikely. It's very complicated your grace. It's not as though we can interrogate them all, we risk angering the lords just in questioning them.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, no doubt feeling a similar pain in his head as she felt.

She sighed. “We need Lord Varys and his little birds.”

Tyrion grimaced. “That would be most convenient. I take back anything ill I may have ever said about that man. Balls or not he’s got the head for this.” He snorted. “His role is not an easy one to fill and frankly I believe were he here we would have already found the sellsword.”

Daenerys fingered the knife inside her sleeve, checking to make sure it was there for the umpteenth time. If Daario appeared again this night, she would be better prepared. 

As she took her place at the table on the dais, she searched the room for Jon Snow and found him absent. She wondered where he might be. Things were much less interesting without him.

By now the sun had set completely and the room was illuminated by chandeliers filled with glowing candles and by the many hearths along the walls. The queen sat alone with Tyrion, and soon servants brought an assortment of dishes from which they could choose from. 

She saw roasted meats, honeyed quail, stewed rabbit with onions and carrots, large rolls of bread still warm from the oven, pease pudding, a pig with crinkling skin on a bed of sour cherries, pigeon pie, sweet pumpkin soup, and a rack of lamb crusted with garlic and herbs.

The scents of all of the different foods made her feel dizzy. She reached for a silver goblet and took sips of sweet golden cider. She found she no longer had an appetite.

“My queen are you well? The color has positively drained from your face.” Tyrion looked at her with concern.

She waved her hand dismissively. “I am fine my lord, I just find myself suddenly nauseous. The foods of the north are much too rich for me; perhaps I will try them come tomorrow.”

“Shall I find you a maester?”

“Do not worry for me Lord Tyrion, I am well. Perhaps I will retire early tonight and try to recuperate some sleep. I mean only to wish Missandei a goodnight and perhaps the King in the North and his sisters should they arrive before I make my leave.”

He nodded at her. “Rest should do you well.” And tore off a wing from the bird; the sickly sweet smell and the sticky sauce made her stomach roil. Tyrion devoured it quickly, enjoying the flavor.

It was then the doors opened and Jon entered with his sister Sansa, behind them followed a gigantic white wolf. Her eyes widened.

 _That must be Ghost._

The northmen paid the creature no mind, but the other lords practically fell out of their seats at the sight of him. The wolf was regal and stark white with a mane of fur surrounding a large head. Men reacted similarly to her dragons, and so she did not feel fear towards the direwolf. Dragons after all were larger and more frightening. 

Sansa stopped to speak with the man Daenerys had locked eyes with at court, the man whose hair greyed at the sides. He was close enough now that she could see the adornment of a silver bird pinned to a coat lined with black fur. The man saw her gazing at him and tilted his head in acknowledgment. She found it curious.

Jon greeted a few of the lords and clapped Tormund Giantsbane across the back as his friends downed great tankards of ale, laughing and hooting all the while as men did when they were drunk and happy. Then he strode towards them, wolf in tow. 

Ghost approached her directly; he was so large that his eyes were level with hers as she sat. They were crimson in color, like blood. Within them there was intelligence; like that she knew her dragons possessed. He put his snout close enough to her face she could feel warm puffs of air. He sniffed her curiously. Daenerys looked up at Jon as he watched them interestedly. 

Slowly, she reached out a hand palm up and after a time she placed it on his fur, petting him softly. The animal leaned into her hand, pleased and a smile came unbidden to her face. “He's nearly as handsome as you are Jon Snow.” The queen teased.

“More so even.” Tyrion sipped from his goblet. Daenerys flushed slightly, having forgotten he was there.

Jon coughed into a fist, embarrassed. He changed the subject gladly. “Your grace, how many men do you command including the Dothraki, mercenary companies, and Unsullied?"

The queen played with a braid in her hair that had come undone as she thought. “To tell it true, I do not yet know how many casualties we sustained combined at Casterly Rock and in the Field of Fire. I do not like to receive such information over raven for fear the bird intercepted by our enemies. We will know when they arrive.” 

The wolf lay down behind them, guarding their backs. 

“I estimate I have at least ninety five thousand Dothraki, six thousand Unsullied, four hundred Windblown, and should the Second Sons and Stormcrows not abandon me then three thousand more combined.” She raised an eyebrow. "And yours?"

“Much less impressive.” He eyed the food in front of them but did not partake. “The Vale of Arryn lends us twenty thousand men thanks to Sansa and the Lord Protector of the Vale; Peter Baelish.” He drummed the table with his fingers absentmindedly.

“With Manderly's contingent our northmen number seven thousand, then five thousand wildlings at most, three hundred crannogmen from the Neck, a couple hundred from the Riverlands, and a scattered array of travelers men and women alike who have never held a sword in all their lives. If we gave each of them a weapon, then that would add somewhere around twenty thousand. In total I have maybe forty thousand soldiers and twenty thousand smallfolk. I fear it still not enough.”

Daenerys resisted the urge to take his hand and hold it in hers. She much preferred they speak in private where no one could see them and she could do as she liked. “And the number of dead men?”

“The dead numbered well over one hundred thousand last we had the men to scout them and that was months ago. I fear the number may have nearly doubled now. You saw the same as I north of the wall, a sea of walking dead without end. The Night King surely reanimates more dead with every hour that passes.” He closed his eyes a moment in frustration.

“Has Sir Davos begun his journey to show the other houses; big and small, what comes for them?” She tilted her head inquisitively.

“Yes he left with Clegane, Dondarrian, and Thoros of Myr right after court. I pray it goes well for them; there was not much I could do other than write an order and sign it with my seal for them to show as they travel. This will bring them at least some minor protection.” His eyebrow furrowed.

Tyrion spoke in between bites of meat. “You know, I was thinking.” He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “Of the great houses there is not much left to divide, almost all armies are spoken for and have already declared their allegiance to one side or another. The men of the Stormlands died with Renly and Stannis, and what few survived blew away in the wind like leaves. The Reach is decimated, the Riverlands too. All that remains is Dorne.”

Daenerys looked at him suspiciously; he had a strange glint in his eye. “Dorne’s last semblance of a monarch is held hostage in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep. While Cersei holds Ellaria Sand prisoner, the Dornish will not join us for fear of drawing the queen's ire. What are you thinking?”

“My sister is a fool but still too clever by half. She might make her threats and surely has made it as unpleasant as possible for Ellaria Sand, but she cannot kill her. We all know this.” Tyrion tore off a piece of bread from a roll and grinned. 

The queen raised an eyebrow, beginning to get impatient. “Yes we do. If Cersei kills her then the Dornish will join me as Ellaria and the daughters of the late Prince Oberyn Martell intended from the beginning. For now it appears we’re at an impasse Lord Tyrion, but please do go ahead and share with us your thoughts. I know you’re dying to do so.” Her eyes crinkled in amusement.

Tyrion shrugged. “Why don’t we just have Ellaria killed?” Daenerys’ eyes widened, the smile fading from her face.

“No.” Jon shook his head. “That’s not right. That’s not honorable and I will play no part.” He frowned.

Daenerys examined her adviser carefully. “My Lord, that’s... morally questionable.” But she was no fool. “Though Cersei likely has her wishing for death already. If she died and the Dornish learned of it, they would come. There are ten, maybe fifteen thousand spearmen, and their kingdom is the only one warm enough to still grow grain. Grain we could very well use.” She chanced a look at Jon Snow. He looked angry.

“You would kill an innocent woman for your own gain?” He clenched his fist and behind him Ghost sat at attention.

Daenerys said firmly. “She is hardly innocent. She’s killed many, even poisoned an innocent girl. Tyrion’s own niece with a poison called _the long farewell_. It’s horrific and painful. A terrible way to leave this world.”

“I won’t lie to you my queen, the Lannister in me would like to pay back that debt and avenge my sweet Myrcella’s death. She was the best thing to ever come from my sister; the girl did not deserve to die.”

Jon placed his head in his hand, conflicted. “It doesn’t feel right to me.”

“There’s no point in arguing this truthfully, we already need to hire a faceless man to kill Euron Greyjoy before he crosses the narrow sea with the Golden Company.” Tyrion drew a hand down his face. “In order to have the Dornish woman killed, we’d need to hire a second assassin. We don’t even know if we can afford the one man, let alone two.”

The queen’s head began to throb. “Or we could choose. Though that is a conversation for another night. I need to rest.” She held a hand to her head a moment while the pain passed.

She rose, feeling the room start spinning and clutched the seat for support, closing her eyes. 

“My queen? Are you alright?” Jon’s hand settled on her lower back as he steadied her, uncaring if anyone saw him act so familiar.

She nodded, unable to find her voice. Daenerys opened her eyes and was relieved to find the room had stilled again. “I just need sleep. I haven’t slept well in days.”

“Would you like an escort? Jon Snow here seems eager.” Tyrion said dryly.

Had she not felt so sick she would have laughed. “No my lord, I will go alone save for my guard. I’m sure they will help me find the right door.” She exhaled. 

“Let Ghost accompany you, if only to humor me.” Jon whispered in her ear and she acquiesced. As though having understood him, the direwolf looked at her expectantly. When she made to move forward, he began to lead her.

Her guards followed behind her; three young Dothraki, and one older. She was glad for them and for Ghost, because truthfully she felt she could collapse at any given moment. It was the same affliction as the night before, that she knew. Perhaps she should have asked for a maester after all.

Every step sent a sharp pain deep into her abdomen, and were she alone she might have cried and curled into a ball here where she stood. Instead she froze in place a moment and closed her eyes tightly, breathing heavily. 

“Khalessi?” One of the men made to approach her, but Ghost bristled at him, growling fiercely. The man stepped back wearily and she gestured for them to wait. She just needed a moment for this wave to pass. When it did and she opened her eyes Ghost looked at her stoically, then he continued forward and she followed behind with small, wavering steps.

Daenerys thought she would never reach her room, but finally she was at the door. She bid herself be strong. When she opened it the direwolf walked in as though invited and laid down on the carpet she had stained with wine the night prior. She bid her hands not shake as she shut the door slowly then latched it.

Tears fell down her face as she gasped in pain, doubling over to clutch at her stomach. It came in waves, and this one was more painful than the last. Finally it passed again and she trembled as she undressed, leaving her winter gown in a crumpled heap on the floor. She slipped into a nightdress and winced as she lay under the furs of the bed. She was freezing.

At once she felt she might cry or laugh, she felt hysterical. The room was spinning again, and then the pain came. Worse and more intense than before. 

_Am I dying?_ She thought dazedly as the edges of her vision went black and she fainted. 

Then she dreamed.

Long, bony hands with sharpened fingernails clawed at her throat as she fell past a bloody crown and a face with blood dripping from its eyes like tears. She hit the ground, gasping in pain. The soil was frozen hard as stone beneath her face. She saw white worms, some thick and others thin. They turned into roots, and the dead thing became a great Weirwood tree, she had never seen one before, yet somehow she knew what it was.

Then she saw a man whose face sat in shadow, he looked familiar, but she could not identify him without getting a better look at his face. As she stepped towards him the distance only grew between them so she stopped. He sat with one knee up sharpening a sword with a whetstone, deep in thought. A small boy with dark, curly hair approached him and he looked the spitting image of Viserys as a child only with darker features. The queen willed herself closer, curious, but her body was too heavy, and soon her eyes grew heavy too and drifted shut. When she opened them again the man and the boy were gone, and she felt an ache in her chest at the loss.

A bitter wind blew into her face suddenly, whipping her hair wildly as she covered her face with her arms to protect herself from the ice. Daenerys could not see. The wind burned her.

Then the day turned into night and she stood in the middle of the frozen lake she had last seen north of the wall. Her heart jumped in her chest and she felt an immediate fear as she sensed a presence behind her. She turned slowly and found herself face to face with the blue eyes of the Night King. He stared at something behind her and once she realized he could not see her she looked where he did. 

Hundreds of the dead pulled iron chains from out of the darkness of the frozen lake. It was then that she realized with horror that they dragged the corpse of her fallen dragon, Viserion. His wound had frozen and his eyes were open and dead. Such was her horror that she did not cry, the sobs froze in her throat, choking her. Then the Night King approached and placed a cold, pale hand atop her dragon’s head, bringing him to life.

She screamed and a dozen skeletal hands pulled her down into the frigid waters by iron chains. Ice filled her lungs and she died in the dark and cold.

Daenerys awoke in agony, gasping for air as she screamed in pain. She cried and writhed on the bed as tears blinded her eyes, she clutched her stomach, trembling and ill. The queen heard an urgent banging on her door and wished to call for help but found she could not speak. She remembered then through her pain that she had locked it.

 _Will I die in this bed?_ All she could think of was Lyanna Stark, dying in a bed of blood. The edges of her vision began to fade again and she embraced the darkness eagerly for it took her away from this pain.

Somewhere far away she heard the banging stop for a moment and then muffled shouting. There was a great commotion in the hallway as the door shook in its frame but did not budge. A wolf howled.

Her eyes closed again as her mind began to drift into nothingness. She heard the door latch and then worried voices and footsteps. She drew in shallow breaths and every one burned her lungs, her eyelids were heavy. She could not move. The queen felt heat on her face as someone stoked the fire in the hearth to shed light into the room.

The furs were ripped from her body, leaving her frozen and shivering. Dying. She heard gasps and felt the cold take her. 

Then she slept.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days late? Yes. 16,000 words? Yes. Had a serious problem with finding a satisfactory stopping point so alas.


End file.
